Thirty Eight: A Break in the Storm

The ground had turned to a slush of dead leaves, mud and icy water. It had hailed in the night, keeping Jordan awake for hours after he'd put his head down to sleep and leaving white drifts up the tree trunks and ice at the edge of the puddles. Jordan stalked through the trees, a thin layer of muddy water already sloshing around in the bottom of his boots from a walk through a puddle that had looked shallow before he put his foot in it. It poured with icy rain now, but it was at least gentle enough to walk through without being blown off his feet.

He and Yddris had been forced to shelter at Thirris's while the storm raged for several days straight. If the hail wasn't keeping him awake, the monstrous gale-force winds overhead took its place, cracking against the trees as they changed direction and jolting him from sleep or making him startle. Thirris had a well-stocked larder below ground, so they had at least eaten well, but even in shelter the storm was a miserable thing to ride out.

What had made it worse was his two weeks of hard travel hitting him with a vengeance, and combined with Nadiya's purging herbs he had been bedbound for several days. He had suffered the indignity of the other men coming in to empty a chamber pot for him multiple times. On the second day he had broken into a fever that had burned through his reserves like wildfire and made him imagine demon screams in the howling wind. His muscles had grown so stiff he could barely move, and even now as he trudged through the forest to get back to the town centre his body twinged all over. His stomach was delicately protesting the wedge of plain toasted bread and tea he'd had forced on him that morning, and his foggy thoughts were equally reluctant to engage with the outside world after such a violent illness. He had been up and about for a few days within the confines of the house, but his body seemed resistant to settling.

Irata was the Guild's clerk. The storm had put paid to the original plans to see her days ago, but when the storm let up enough for movement through the forest without danger of being crushed by fallen branches, Yddris had insisted Jordan see her before the storm decided it would have a second wind. There was evidence of the storm's passage all around them; broken branches lay across the path or hung from the trees by splinters. The undergrowth, already scraggly, lay flat and wet against the ground in defeat. There was the faint smell of ozone in the air, a note in the chaos of damp leaf-litter and stirred soil. Ren was a small shivering lump in the back of Jordan's hood to get away from the worst of the rain.

"There'll be clear-up," Yddris said, also surveying the damage they passed. "When it all blows over I expect you'll be well enough to train."

Jordan's knees knocked together as if in denial of that possibility. "Maybe." He frowned. "I thought I was already registered here. What's this paperwork for, exactly?"

"Technically you're not fully registered," Yddris replied. "Harkenn sent word here of your manifestation and your apprenticeship to me, and his official acknowledgement of your Unspoken status. What we're doing today is the Guild paperwork. You're officially Unspoken, but your registration with the Guild needs you present. Registered membership gives you access to all the extra benefits; the right to a plot here if and when you want it, permission to stay or retire here when needed, access to payouts if work dries up, and so on. It also covers any tuition you get from anyone other than me."

"Like Nika?"

"No, boy. He wouldn't accept subsidy anyway. Your first Guildtown visit is usually your best opportunity to pick up a specialism alongside your demon hunting. It's strongly advised you do so, since the light season is a little harsh on the purse otherwise. Koen is a net caster, and there's work for that all year round. Same with Nika's medicine. If Harkenn hadn't already contracted me partly for my handiness with a blade, there are plenty of others who would."

"Is he expecting me to specialise in that?"

"I think he concedes you'll be handy with one anyway," Yddris said, and Jordan winced. "He's not put parameters on your specialisms. As long as you do what he needs you to do, what you get up to the rest of the time is none of his concern."

"Astra wants me to go with her to see Yerrit."

Yddris grunted. "Does she now?"

"I don't get it," Jordan burst out a moment later, unable to hold it in. "She didn't say a word to me for months unless it was absolutely necessary. And now she wants to paint together?"

"Astra is an Unspoken the like of which we haven't seen for a very long time," Yddris said slowly. "She sees the world in ways that you and I can't imagine. I doubt it was ever personal. If she is talking to you now, though, boy, that means she believes you are worth talking to. And from Astra that is a compliment." He paused. "I suspect she's also very curious about your artistic talents. I'm afraid Koen's spread that one around quite thoroughly, and if you don't go and see Yerrit, Yerrit'll come and collar you."

Jordan scowled but didn't reply, and was soon sufficiently distracted by a trampled bog of wet, semi-frozen mud just outside the central clearing that it slipped from his thoughts. The ground clutched at the soles of his boots as he skirted around the worst of it, and despite his best efforts he stepped inside the main building soggy and splattered with mud. It was some small comfort that Yddris was just as dirty. His tutor led him through the room of certificates and into the office that sat adjacent. Jordan hadn't paid it much attention the last time he had come here, mostly because it was competing with Yddris's upper floors for most sparse decoration. An Unspoken at a corner desk looked up as they entered.

"Well met, Yddris," said a chirpy female voice, and the Unspoken Jordan presumed was Irata closed the ledger she'd been working in and bounced to her feet. "Cara said to expect you. I've got his paperwork over here."

She crossed to a set of drawers in the corner and pulled a small sheaf of papers from the topmost one. Jordan eyed the official-looking script feeling a little disconcerted. His experience of official paperwork in Nictaven so far had been poor to say the least. He told himself that he'd not have to see the contracts out, that they'd find a way home before then – but that was feeling an increasingly distant and fanciful goal. He couldn't remember the last time he and Grace had talked about it like it might happen. Hell, he'd been planning to find her somewhere else to live for several weeks. All that he'd seen of Marick made him wonder if the Devil leader wasn't just taking him for a complete fool.

It was not with a positive frame of mind that Jordan reviewed the documents that entitled him to a permanent home here if he wanted it.

"All I need you to do is read and sign both of these," Irata said, and Jordan hoped she couldn't read his darkening mood. He knew Yddris could, but refused to look at his tutor. "This one is just Harkenn's acknowledgement. This one's the important one – this is your Guild contract."

Jordan felt his face heating as he looked at the small script. He could read basic words in Nictavian script, and form basic sentences. Paragraphs of legal jargon, he quickly found out, were far beyond his capacity.

"I'm sorry, I'm just learning to read," he said sheepishly. "This is a bit complicated for me."

"Oh," Irata said, suddenly sounding flustered, "I'm so sorry, Thorne, I didn't think to ask. I could read it to you if you like?"

Jordan couldn't think of anything he was less in the mood for than having a contract read at him. He was rescued a moment later as Cara swept in behind them, appearing as if from nowhere, and said, "I'll explain it all to him, Irata. Leave it with me."

It suddenly didn't feel like quite as much of a rescue.

Irata gave him a cheerful wave as Cara led them back out into the rain, sheltering the contracts inside her cloak and hurrying them towards a small hut that sat slightly back from the clearing itself, a stone's throw from the main building. The floor of the entrance was hard-packed mud strewn with woven grasses that absorbed moisture seeping in from outside. On a raised platform opposite the door was the main living space, with the fireplace and the furniture out of reach of the damp. Jordan followed Yddris's lead in wiping off the worst of the mud on his boots in the grass mats, but they all still left damp boot prints on Cara's floor. Where Thirris's house overflowed with clutter, Cara's was merely cosy, but not so well-adorned that it seemed she spent a lot of time there. The air smelled faintly of herbs and some sort of perfume and her chairs were soft and comfortable.

"Please sit down," she said, when he hesitated. A roaring green fire appeared in the grate and their cloaks began to steam gently. "They'll dry out again."

He lowered himself into a chair, still hesitant at first, but the feeling of a real stuffed armchair was too much to resist and he sagged the rest of the way with a sigh. Ren crept out of his hood and went to curl up near the fire. Despite her best efforts to keep Jordan's head between her and the rain, the little shadowrunner still glistened with wet and looked thoroughly miserable.

"People come to the Guild from all walks of life," Cara said, busying herself with candles that she lit with normal orange flames. The smoke that spiralled from them revealed itself as the source of the floral fragrance. "All different backgrounds, regardless of religion or origin. I hadn't appreciated quite how unique your situation was, as Faellian Harkenn did not mention it in his letter."

Jordan looked at her, uncertain how to respond. He was sure Yddris had told her, but his tutor was silent beside him. He was also unsure whether the Guildmaster was referring only to his otherworld origins, or if she knew about the Devils, too. Did Nadiya still have to keep it secret if it was the Guildmaster asking?

"You don't need to look quite so alarmed, Thorne," the woman said, with a smile in her voice. "Dear, dear, Yddris, what have you told him about me to make him shake like that?"

"I've been ill," Jordan supplied quickly, realising belatedly that he was indeed trembling like a leaf.

"Not used to travel?"

"No."

"Nadiya saw fit to purge him dry after a two-week trip," Yddris said sourly. Jordan flushed. If he had been strong enough to get out of bed he'd never have allowed his tutor anywhere near that chamberpot, and now they had to live with that between them forever. Just at the reminder, Jordan wouldn't have minded if the ground swallowed him.

"Skin infection," he added, almost at a whisper.

"I see." Cara seemed to look at him for too long, as if seeing right through him. He fidgeted. Maybe she could; maybe she could read it all on his aura. He stifled those thoughts as his stomach offered an unpleasant lurch in response. "Well, I rarely find cause to fault Nadiya's judgement but that may have been...a little premature."

She set a cup down on the small table beside Jordan's elbow and then went to fetch the kettle from the fire. When they were both supplied with tea, only then did the Guildmaster sit down, leaving Jordan feeling a little like the usual patterns had been turned upside down. His only experiences with Nictavian leaders so far had involved his extreme discomfort and intimidation. Only once had Harkenn ever poured him a drink, but even that was a precursor to a threat, and if Marick ever offered him a drink Jordan would know he was about to die.

"There's very little to object to in this, I'm glad to say," Cara said, setting the paperwork to one side. "I'm sure Yddris has given you the gist of what it is for. It's a set of very plain terms written in a flowery enough way to suit the lawmakers of the land." She sipped at her own tea and sighed. "The only clauses you'll want to be explicitly aware of are those concerning our laws versus Harkenn's laws. It boils down to this, my boy; if you are caught for ordinary crimes, you fall under the jurisdiction of Harkenn's law, and the Assembly if the offense is severe. We are allowed to vouch for you if this is the case, but you will not get off on the basis of your Gift alone. If you commit a crime using your Gift, you fall under our jurisdiction. No non-Gifted individual can vouch for you in our trials. The implications are too severe. Until you gain the black cloak, Yddris would stand on trial in your place for such a crime, and take the punishment meted out, unless we had evidence that it was committed in full knowledge of what you were doing and what the effects would be. Is that all clear?"

"Y-yep."

"I don't anticipate that you'll ever use that information," Cara said. "But it's there to keep in mind. It's Yddris's job to teach you what would constitute a crime that falls under our law."

"Okay." Jordan darted a glance at his tutor, but Yddris remained impassive. Was he nervous? Jordan had never known Yddris to be nervous.

"The rest sets out what you are entitled to as a member of our Guild," Cara continued. "A plot of land here, to build on or do with as you please. The bursary and hardship funds, including for physicians' bills, will be made available if you have need, though you will not likely need them while still in your apprentice years. As I already said, we would vouch for you in criminal trials, and you are entitled to Harkenn's full and lawful protection according to our agreements. In exchange, we ask that you play your part in the whole, and never spread Guild business in circles where it does not belong. Is that fair?"

Jordan nodded. It didn't sound as bad as he had been expecting – he had known much of it from Nika already. "So...if that's the contract, then what are the oaths?"

"Ah." Cara sat back. "The oaths, my boy, are between you and Nictaven, and you take them when you take the black. They're for your safety and that of others. We see it as a duty not to break them, and some rules will find you in the courthouse if they are."

"This Unspoken thing is very complicated," Jordan muttered. The oaths confused him most of all, almost implying that magic was sentient and gave a damn about rules. Then he remembered the strange music from the mountains and frowned, unsettled. He hadn't thought about it in those terms.

Cara chuckled. "You pick it up quickly. Isn't that right, Yddris?"

"Aye." If a scowl could be construed in the way someone sat, Yddris managed it. Jordan filed that away for later, trying not to smirk. Somehow his tutor always knew it was there even if he couldn't see it.

They finished their tea without broaching any other heavy topics. Jordan sat and quietly sipped his while Yddris and Cara discussed coordinating a clean-up of the storm damage. Listening to them talk, Jordan thought he could see why Yddris might have been favoured for taking over Cara's post; like he did in Shadow's Reach, he strategized confidently but always with deference. More often than not, just like with Harkenn, Cara ended up agreeing with his strategy.

When they left, it was still raining. Even though nothing offensive had been in this contract, Jordan felt a little sour at having to sign another one. Yddris led him towards the row of sturdy huts that lined an avenue through the trees, running perpendicular to the main building. One was longer than the others, and this one he hurried Jordan into, spilling them into warmth and the fug of cooking. Benches littered with Unspoken occupied a long wooden hall, and at the far end two other Unspoken wearing white armbands stirred and served from a huge vat of stew. Jordan's stomach protested delicately, but before he could say anything Yddris had planted him on an empty bench and was heading up to collect bowls.

"I could eat a whole buck by myself right now." Koen threw himself suddenly onto the opposite bench, littering the table with rainwater. "By the night, I think Hap's trying to kill me."

He dramatically threw his head down on the table with a thump that drew eyes from all over the hall. A few chuckled. Clearly it was a scene they'd witnessed before.

"That good, huh?" Jordan said, laughing as well. "Christ, didn't that hurt?"

"Greatly." Koen's voice came muffled by the wood. "But I'm making a point."

"Make a point by breaking your own furniture," Yddris muttered, returning with three bowls and spoons and sitting next to Koen. It was a strange feeling, to be sat at a table with Yddris. In the Reach, if he was home at the same mealtimes at all, they ate while arranged on the floor in the front room.

"Yddris, you're a saint," Koen groaned, and for a minute Jordan was convinced that Koen was going to repeat his face-plant in the bowl of stew. Then the other apprentice picked up a spoon and began to shovel it in with enthusiasm.

"You have a strange idea of what a saint looks like," Yddris muttered.

"So," Koen said, after he'd inhaled half the bowl in alarmingly little time, "what are you up to at the moment? You been to see anyone yet?"

"No, I didn't go out in the storm."

Koen said indignantly, "Hap had me running laps in it!"

"Thorne was running, but it wasn't fuckin' laps," Yddris grumbled into his spoonful.

"I hate you."

"And I hated cleaning you out, but I still did it." His tone didn't change.

Jordan back to Koen, scowling. "I was ill. And those herbs..."

"Ah yeah, I forgot Nadiya got her claws in you. Shit, that sucks. You doing better?"

"A lot better." Jordan poked at his food and took a few hesitant sips of the broth. When his stomach didn't immediately reject it, he followed it with a few solids. "Actually, I'm going to see Yerrit soon. Partly because you've been telling everyone I can draw, if I understood correctly."

Koen looked appropriately sheepish. "You're so dark-damned modest about it. Thought you could do with a bit of a prod into the open, y'know? I really think you'll like Yerrit. He's got paints and everything. You'll have a great time, even if it doesn't turn out to be your specialism."

Jordan nodded. "Astra's coming too."

"Wait, she asked you? Or..." When Jordan nodded, Koen laughed. "Hey, I told her you were fine. You've got the seal of approval."

"So I've heard," Jordan replied, and lifted his spoon to his mouth to take another bite. Just before he did so, a deafening rumble sounded overhead and the soft patter of the rain turned to a hail of bullets.

"Eat up, boy," Yddris grumbled. "Looks like we're running back."