Twenty Two: A Reckoning

Jordan looked down at the page in front of him, frowning. He was a little rusty, but after some quick practice, he'd warmed back up to drawing in reassuringly good time. After his first full night of sleep in weeks, and the relief that came with knowing he wouldn't have to set foot in the dead quarter again for a good long while, the familiar rhythm had brought an almost trance-like calm. He had sat down straight after breakfast, and it seemed like minutes later that his hand was cramping and he could smell cooking for the midday meal.

He got up, grimacing as his back popped, and closed his journal on the sketch of a sleeping Ren. She woke up as his chair scraped against the floor and softly chirruped before closing her eyes again. He scratched behind her ears and then went out into the hall, massaging his aching spine.

"Have you been drawing all this time?" Nika asked. He chopped another potato into the pot with deft flicks of his knife.

"Yeah." Jordan shrugged. He wasn't certain if things had become more or less awkward with Nika since the night he'd come back from the food-store job. In some ways, he didn't feel so tense around him, trying to avoid extended time alone and wondering if he knew anything. In others, it was worse – Jordan knew Nika did know at least something of what he was up to, and the Unspoken had given no indication of what he thought about it. And things were always a little bit awkward with someone after one had climbed through a window in the middle of the night, covered in blood, only to break down on their shoulder.

"I believe Yddris has set your leaving time for three days. Hopefully you'll get across the Barrens before the storms hit full force." Carrots splashed into the broth. "I ought to show you how to cook a few things before you leave. Yddris can't cook to save his life."

"What does he do when you're not here?"

"I strongly suspect he loiters around the castle until the housekeeper takes pity and feeds him. A combination of that and spending an obscene amount of money buying it in shops and taverns." The Unspoken stirred the pot with the ladle. "When he was training me, I once saw him eat an entire raw potato as a meal on a trip to the Guildtown before he realised I knew how to cook."

"At least he's easily pleased." Jordan snorted. "If I mess up a meal, I will now carry the reassurance that he'd have happily settled for a raw spud."

Nika laughed. "That is true. I honestly don't know how he's lived this long sometimes."

"It won't be demons that finish him." Jordan joined in, the relief and calm of the morning buoying his mood. It almost felt foreign to laugh. "Something lame and domestic will do it."

"A particularly violent dust cloud from his attic," Nika said, "is my bet."

"I'm putting my money on a duff potato."

A knock at the door interrupted them. Nika pointed to the hall with his ladle. "It's for you."

Jordan frowned. No one had mentioned any visits. He opened the door and was met with Grace standing two inches from him, looking very much like he was in for a telling-off.

"Ah," he squeaked. "Hey, Grace."

"You're in so much trouble," she snapped, matching his thoughts exactly.

He sighed and stepped aside to let her in, just as Yddris came into view.

"She overheard outside Harkenn's study," his tutor muttered. "I had to bring her down for my own safety. She ambushed me at the front door."

"Sounds about right," Jordan said. He had been dreading telling Grace about the trip as it was, and she'd found out in the worst way possible.

"I hadn't appreciated that you hadn't told her about the name change, though, boy. It's been long enough and you've told everyone else. Don't know how you were thinking to keep that one quiet forever."

Jordan's heart sank even further. "Ah, fuck."

"Ah, fuck indeed." Yddris clapped him on the shoulder. "Have fun."

He squeezed past, leaving Jordan staring into the street and wondering if there was enough water in the gutter to drown himself in. In another quarter, a Firebull wailed, and Jordan was reminded forcibly of his last meeting with Arlen. He could only be glad Grace hadn't overheard anything about that.

Reluctantly, he closed the door. Nika and Grace were talking in the front room, his sister's voice light as if she hadn't just the moment before sounded ready to commit murder. When he entered, however, her expression darkened again, and she indicated curtly for him to go first. He led her into his room, and flinched as the door snapped shut.

"Why wouldn't you tell me?"

He had been expecting a blaze of fury, shouting, something – it would have been better than the quiet betrayal in her voice. His throat caught.

"You're going away for months, Joe. You changed your name. And I, your sister, get to find out three days before you leave, not because you told me but because I heard it by accident."

He finally mustered the courage to look at her. She was crying, and it was entirely his fault.

"I'm sorry, Grace," he said. He knew as it he said it that it wasn't enough, that nothing he said now would really make up for it. He just hadn't been able to face it, knowing how much she didn't know and having to weather her disapproval when it was only a fraction of the full picture. It had been entirely selfish, but on weeks of little sleep seemed the only bearable option. "Things have been so...bad. They've been bad. I just didn't want to...I don't know. I don't know. I'm sorry."

"You could have at least said that much," she replied, scrubbing her eyes furiously. "You know I wouldn't have pressed. I've been thinking for weeks that it was something I did. That you didn't want to see me. It would've at least been nice to know otherwise."

"No, Grace. Oh god, no. You haven't done anything." He tried to smile, and then remembered she couldn't see it. "This one's all me."

He sat on the bed and a moment later, still pressing her sleeves to her eyes, she joined him. When she didn't pull away, he put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. Ren got up from her sleeping spot on the desk and leapt over to the bed, making a new spot out of Grace's skirts.

"I swear she likes you more than me," Jordan muttered, prompting a watery chuckle.

"I don't blame her. You're a butthead."

"I've heard worse." He laughed as well, pressing his cheek against her hair. Under his hand he found her leaner than ever. He wanted to ask what she'd been doing up at the castle, how she'd been treated, how far along she was with Nova, but made himself wait. He could tell from her silence that she was only thinking about how best to bring something up, and found it reassuring that he could still read her like that.

"It's been hard for me, too," she finally said. "I know you have to deal with the fallout of this...magic thing. I don't want to, you know...make less of it. I'll probably never understand. But it's still hard, especially if you start drifting away and won't tell me stuff like this. I spend days worrying if something terrible has happened or you're suffering, and I can't even be certain you'll tell me if you were." She fidgeted, her fingers creeping up to clasp his even though she kept her face averted. "We used to talk about everything, even if it was so dumb we'd laugh about it afterwards. I don't like that I didn't know about something this big. And maybe...maybe this time it's not my business. Just don't drift away, Joe, without saying anything. You promised."

His throat hurt, and he knew his hand was trembling under hers. She sniffed and reached out to take his other hand where it rested in his lap, drawing back when he couldn't suppress a hiss of pain. "Are you hurt?"

"Just a cut," he said. From grabbing the business end of a sword like a moron.

"Did it happen at work?"

"I...yeah." Any other explanation strayed too close to dangerous waters.

She nodded slowly. "I'm glad Yddris is teaching you."

That wasn't a tack he'd been expecting her to take. "You...are?"

"You didn't hear about what he did when those criminals attacked the food-stores?" she asked, and Jordan had to fight not to laugh or weep – he wasn't sure which would bubble up first. "Five demons by himself, and stopped one of the stores burning down completely. If you're not safe with him, you're not safe with anyone."

"I guess not."

"And if he's teaching you, then I reckon you'll get good enough that I don't have to worry so much anymore." He looked sharply down at her, but her look was mischievous. It turned serious again. "How long will you be gone?"

"Two or three months." He winced as her face fell. "I'm sorry, Grace, I've got to."

"For so long, though?"

"It takes two weeks to get there," he said. "Fastest we can go is the speed of a horse and cart."

"Should've brought a car through," she muttered. Jordan laughed.

"I don't think either of us would know how to fix it after a fall like that," he said. "And can you imagine what the reaction would've been?"

"What is this metal demon?" Grace said, in an uncanny impression of Lord Harkenn's accent that had them both falling about.

"Petrol?" Jordan squawked, as Grace fell back on the bed with her hands over her face, shaking. "If I wanted gibberish I'd have asked for it! And what in Kiel's name is a tyre?"

"Stop," she spluttered. "I'm supposed to be angry with you."

He chuckled, squeezing her close and wishing he could tell her everything. There was no way of doing so, though, not without endangering her further, and he'd tried too hard to keep her safe for that. That, and because he had no idea how she would react, and the idea of her pulling away from him was painful.

A soft knock on the door interrupted their silence. Jordan sensed he wasn't forgiven yet, but she was already warming back up.

Nika stepped inside cautiously, and relaxed when he saw them sitting together. "I was wondering if perhaps you could pick a few things up in town for me, Thorne."

Grace stiffened under his grip at the name, but Jordan tried his best to pretend he hadn't noticed. "Sure. What do you need?"

"It's mostly for you, actually," Nika said. "There's a travelling cloak and some gloves for you to collect at the tailor's, and you'll need some sturdier boots than those. You can collect those from the shop next door and there'll be a bedroll and some other bits with them. I've paid ahead for everything and they'll be expecting you. There's also a shop on the Threadneedle that sells leather goods. You're going to need your own knapsack and a waterskin."

"That's...all for me."

"I'd also like some onions. I've run out and Hap and Koen are supposed to be coming for dinner."

"Nika..."

"Do you want me to write all that down?"

"No, I'll do it in a second. But..."

"Thank you, Thorne. Perhaps Grace would like to go with you? Yddris can take her back when you're home."

Jordan gave up on his protests and just nodded as Nika walked away.

"He's worse than mum ever was for coddling you," Grace said, nudging him in the shoulder. "I wouldn't complain."

"I don't," Jordan muttered. "I just haven't earned it."

They were out the door within minutes, Ren bundled up in Grace's shawl. His sister was wearing his spare wool jerkin that he hadn't needed since his brief stay at the Demon's Brew, when there'd still been a chance he wasn't going to manifest the Gift. Even he could feel how bitterly cold it was outside; she must have been extremely angry to have come storming down here in nothing more than her pinafore and a shawl.

He'd never been out in the city with his sister this casually before. It felt surprisingly normal for once, helped along by the reassurance that no Devils were going to pop out of a side-street at him. She had barely been out of the castle at all, and appeared impressed with Jordan's knowledge of the quarter. After strolling down a couple of streets she looped her arm through his, unfazed by the staring of the few passers-by.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Always," she said absently, eyes glued to a window display filled with books.

"If you don't tell Nika I already ate," he said, pulling her further down the street. "We'll stop here."

Vek was alone this time when they stepped inside, and aside from a worried crease in his brow he was back to his usual jovial self.

"Hello, little man," he said, flashing his armoury in a grin. His brows raised as Grace crept in behind Jordan, brushing against him and winding her fingers through his. When Jordan glanced down she was staring wide-eyed at the huge Varthian man. "And someone else this time? Let me guess, you are related."

Jordan checked to make sure no one else was in the shop. Vek had seen him before he'd manifested the Gift, and he'd yet to see anyone who looked anything like him or Grace in Nictaven, so there was no point denying it. "Yeah. Can we get two of the usual, please?"

"Aye, I should think you can." Vek winked. "You get it while it's here, mind, food is getting hard to come by. I expect I'll be closing shop until the crops are in before long."

"Is it getting really bad?"

The Varthian's brow darkened. "Oh, aye. Half the city is relying on Harkenn's store now, and the rest are paying double for the same produce." He put two wax-paper packages on the surface, and Jordan handed over a Cert from his coin purse. "Daft punai, those Devils, for doing that. They'll need those stores themselves before long; the new crops won't be ready for harvest until the light season."

"How come there's so little this year?" Jordan asked, taking the sandwiches and handing one to Grace.

"Last year was a bad year," Vek said. He leaned on the counter and scratched his chin, yellow eyes distant. "And the early demon plague damaged the farms badly, eating livestock and ruining the last of the harvest we did have. And that was before what happened at the castle. I would not test how sick you get from grains grown in a field covered in Firebull shit."

"Don't the farms have Unspoken?" Grace asked.

"They do, aye. One or two each at most, otherwise they rely on rune nets. But the numbers... there were barely enough Unspoken for the Reach itself. The Gift is not showing up like it used to."

Jordan frowned when they both turned to look at him, and was still frowning when they left, his appetite diminished. He'd known, of course. Yddris had told him he was the only apprentice that year. The pressure that came with it, though, was weighing heavier with each passing week, plucking at his frayed nerves and poking at memories of long nights out with his Devil instructors. The Unspoken needed him far more than the Devils did.

It was just a shame he wanted nothing to do with any of it.

He sensed, as they visited the tailor's and picked up his package before meandering towards the quarter's central avenue, that Grace had not dropped the conversation they'd had indefinitely. She was quiet as they walked, face thoughtful in the same way it had been when they were growing up, when she was trying to decide on a plan. He almost wished she had got angry. It might have assuaged some of the guilt gnawing at his insides. Reasonable, justifiably upset Grace was a whole lot harder to deal with than when she let it all out at once.

"How's Nova?" he asked, just to get her talking again. It was cowardice, he knew. It was a problem that wasn't going to get better any time soon, and they'd have to come to an arrangement at some point.

"Tired and grouchy, a lot of the time." Grace's face softened at the Angel's name, some of the worry lines smoothing from her forehead. "Can't blame her, though. Harkenn has her running around all over the place now Brillan's not there."

"Can't he just hire another butler?"

"If you want to be the one to suggest it to him, go right ahead," Grace said. "Because I'm not doing it."

"Fair enough."

"She's not telling me things, either," Grace said after another short silence. Jordan's stomach flipped. "I'm not sure why I'm the one who's always got to be out of the loop. I know I'm just a maid and I don't have any magic, but for god's sake." Her voice cracked again. "She knew, didn't she? About your name and this stupid trip."

If he was honest, Jordan couldn't quite believe Nova hadn't told Grace about it long before. Every time he saw her, the Angel stared at him like she was rummaging through his soul, and he wondered if that was the day she'd go and spill everything to Grace.

But he couldn't lie about it – she'd been in the meetings.

"Yes," he sighed, "she did. I'm quite surprised she wasn't the one to bust me."

"She said it wasn't her place," Grace said, sour enough to bite. Jordan winced. "And to be honest, it wasn't. You should've said something first. But still, we're supposed to be.... Maybe that's not how she sees it." She sighed. "At any rate, she kinda did bust you. She tipped me off that I'd be able to get hold of Yddris at that time if I waited outside the study."

"Ah."

"Mhm. I had a nightmare of a time collaring him."

"I swear I didn't tell him to." He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, fighting down a wash of intense dislike for himself. "I'm so sorry, Grace. I was just so scared of how you'd react and...not gonna lie, was kind of hoping someone else would say it first. And there's no excuse for that," he added quickly, as she opened her mouth to speak. "I'll do better in future. I promise. This whole thing...it's crazy. It still doesn't feel real most days. You're my normal, Grace, you're the only bit of normal I ever get."

She looked up at him, eyes pools of darkness in the gloom, and she smiled a little sadly. "I know, Joe. Just...remember I don't have that. That I can't...see you the same way, after this... I'm messing this up."

He knew it was the case, but the words still hit like a falling sword. The relief that came with only having to focus on the Gift vanished in an instant, replaced by a familiar burning resentment.

"I know you can't," he echoed.

"It doesn't have to get in the way, though," she said. They'd stopped in the middle of the street, and Jordan vaguely wondered if anyone was watching out of their windows, wondered what they thought was really happening. "Not if you don't want it to. Not if you don't let it. You can't shut me out if you want it to stay like normal. Or as normal as we can get. You know?"

"I know."

"I love you, Joe," she mumbled, embracing him abruptly. He returned it with numb hands. It was the first time she had admitted that his Gift made her uncomfortable, made her see him differently, and while he'd known that, it was entirely another to hear it. "I don't want this to get in the way."

He swallowed a lump in his throat, but it stuck.

"I know."