Forty Eight: Pressure

A knife glinted in the dark, and Jordan gasped his way into wakefulness.

Ren snuffled at his cheek, mewling lightly as he tried to catch his breath, staring up at the darkened ceiling of his room in Thirris's house. Not the bedroom at the Demon's Brew, or his room at Yddris's. Silas couldn't get to him here.

He blamed the tension around the Guildtown for the sudden reappearance of his nightmares. The possibility of the killers from the Reach stalking the woods had set everyone on edge, and for good reason. No one had been attacked directly, but it was bad enough that they were marring rune nets – an attack in itself. Though no one had evidence that they were the perpetrators, the threat was enough.

Nothing untoward had happened on his rounds with Hap, aside from the fact that he had singularly failed to work out how rune nets linked. Yet there was a sense of imminent threat in the air still, and it had put him in mind of Arlen's fanboy Silas, who had made it his life's mission to take Jordan out of the picture.

He shouldn't have been so surprised to find the little gobshite haunting his dreams again.

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, grimacing at the cold sweat that rimed his skin. He pulled off the shirt he slept in and left it puddled on the floor, and then he padded out into the hall. Ren trotted at his heels.

He was thoroughly awake; there was no chance he would sleep again. The nightmare boiled too close to the forefront of his thoughts, and he knew it would return the moment he closed his eyes. He stepped out onto the veranda barefoot and stood in the chill breeze for a while, allowing it to dry the sweat on his neck and chest. He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced at how long it had grown; before long he'd be tying it back to keep it out of the way. He felt restless, and it wasn't fading away with wakefulness.

The darkness beyond the trees was still and silent, as if taunting him.

"Fancy a walk?" he asked Ren, picking her up and setting her in the crook of one arm. "I fancy a walk."

He wandered back inside and threw on some boots and a fresh shirt. After a moment of thought, he left his journal open on the table at a new page and left a note for Thirris to let him know where he was headed. Thirris could let Yddris know.

He pulled on his cloak and fastened it up, suppressing a shiver of annoyance at having to still wear it even though he was headed out in the middle of the night. He supposed he could still easily run into a patrol, and he wasn't convinced that many Unspoken were asleep. He could tell without trying too hard how much closer to the surface Nictaven's current ran than during the day – some Unspoken undoubtedly lived their lives following that pattern. It buffeted the edges of his mind like lapping waves, comforting in its constancy. He snorted to himself. It really had got to the point where the magic occupying his body without permission was a comfort.

He left through the front door, the most direct route to the town centre. He wasn't stupid enough to take an impromptu stroll around the outskirts after the alerts had gone out, but sitting still at Thirris's was an equally unappealing prospect. He walked at a brisk trot, breathing deeply to calm himself. He didn't have a clear idea of what he wanted to do when he got into town, only that he wanted to be out. To remind himself he really wasn't in the Reach anymore.

Night creatures tittered, flickered and hooted in the woods beyond the limits of his sight. The loops and whorls of rune nets shimmered amidst the undergrowth and up the trunks of some trees, much brighter with the onset of night. It was strangely beautiful, and it amazed him that this was considered normal – that he was the most otherworld thing out here, by the standards of everyone else. He chuckled as Ren tried to snap at a passing bug and almost lost her balance.

The clearing was empty of other people, though the fire still smouldered in the firepit and the runes were as bright as ever. Jordan wandered to the fire and sat down on one of the logs around it, set there as seating during the celebrations and not moved since. Shapes and sparks swirled in the fire's depths almost hypnotically, and the longer he stared into it, the louder the current grew until he was surrounded by that unearthly music again. It wasn't as though it filled the air around him; rather that it seemed to fill the gaps between thoughts in his brain, pushing them out of the way so he could focus on the rhythm. So absorbing was it that Cara got within two feet of him before he realised that he wasn't alone.

"Good evening, Thorne," she said. Even though he'd realised someone was there a split-second earlier, her voice still made him jump.

"C-cara," he staggered to his feet, almost putting his heels in the fire, "well met." He swallowed and composed himself. "Sorry, I didn't realise you were there."

"Listening to it, were you?" Cara said softly. "It's quite hypnotic, I find. Don't get too focused, though, Thorne. Falling in has the same effect as overdrawing."

Trying to reason out how he could fall into a sensation and kill himself with it almost pretzelled his brain. He blinked, freeing himself from the pull and bringing him back to the present. The Guildmaster must have seen him through the window of her house; her door was open across the clearing, spilling a wedge of light across the ground. She stood like a shadow within a shadow behind him, only the pinprick glimmer of her eyes visible.

"I couldn't sleep," he said, thinking she waited for his reason for being out here alone so late.

"I'm sorry to hear it," she said. "Would you care for a cup of tea and a stroll, Thorne?"

He blinked stupidly. The Guildmaster wanted to go on a walk...with him? He pushed away his first instinctual mistrust. Cara wasn't Harkenn or Marick. If she wanted something from him it was unlikely to be bad. He was still hesitant as he said, "Sure."

He thought she might have smiled. "What can I do to convince you there's no need to be nervous with me?"

He opened and closed his mouth like a landed fish, then breathed a sigh of relief when he realised she didn't expect an answer. He followed her back to her house and waited in the entranceway as she poured boiling water into two cups for them. He vaguely wondered if she had some strange premonition that he'd been coming, and then dismissed it as silly. Unspoken couldn't read the future. She must have already had the kettle on when she saw him.

She handed him a steaming cup of herb tea and gestured for him to precede her out of the door. He inhaled the aroma gratefully, feeling his muscles relaxing. The tea had a floral note to it.

"I make it myself," Cara said. "I've been experimenting with some dried blooms, though I'm hoping it will be a good blossom year. Pre-dried never tastes the same."

Jordan followed as she closed her door and set off across the clearing, unsure what to say. He had heard Nika mention Cara's skill with the Gift before, implying it was fearsome, but all he had seen of the woman so far reminded him of a hale and somewhat intimidating grandmother. If it was awkward between them, he felt it was mostly on his side; Cara didn't appear uncomfortable in the least.

"I understand that your circumstances were difficult," she said, just as he'd resigned himself to silence for the rest of the walk. They moved slowly down the avenue lined by communal stores and buildings, and burning green brackets on the walls lit their way. Not that they were necessary; in the dark, the runes on this path glowed brighter than they did anywhere else. "Harkenn forced your hand into taking Yddris's job."

It wasn't a question; Yddris had told her that much, then.

"Aye," Jordan muttered gloomily. "He threatened to kill my sister."

Cara sighed. "Harkenn and I have worked together for many years. I respect his skill and judgement in many matters. But he has always had a terrible cruel streak. He inflicts it on those closest to him, and I suppose that prevents him inflicting it on the wider populace."

"It's quite hard to take that as a comfort," Jordan replied.

"I know." She looked at him. "Allowing for those circumstances, my first concern would always be how it impacts the relationship between tutor and apprentice. I have spoken to Yddris on the matter, and now I want to hear your thoughts."

"Um." Jordan fidgeted. He hadn't anticipated this line of conversation. Astra had asked him about it, but this felt different – the Guildmaster had the whole picture, and a lot of influence. He had no way of knowing what hung on what he said and how he said it. "I mean, it was a rough start. I never blamed Yddris for it, if that's what you mean." He paused. "I did blame him for not helping my sister get out. For a while, anyway. Not anymore."

"What changed your mind?"

"She's...safer and happier in the castle than she would have been elsewhere. She couldn't have come to stay with us. She finds magic uncomfortable to be around." His voice caught. It still hurt to think it, even if he didn't blame her. "And also because I got to know Harkenn better and realised that Yddris wouldn't be able to do much."

"And how have you found his teaching so far?"

This question felt even more loaded than the last. He decided to go for truth, rather than trying to skirt around the point. Only Yddris and Nika had ever shown any aptitude for knowing whether he was lying, and he supposed that was more due to familiarity than anything; but Cara was the Guildmaster, and he still wasn't entirely clear on what that meant as far as her magic was concerned. "I don't really have much of a frame of reference. I suppose...it would be good if he was around more. But I know he's really busy, with this season. Nika has been teaching me too. Mostly reading and writing."

Cara appeared to consider his words for a while. "You have no complaints, then? You do not feel it is tense between you?"

"Does Yddris?" To his surprise, Jordan was suddenly anxious to know whether his tutor felt that way. If he did, Jordan had been completely unaware of it.

"No. You've surprised him." Cara chuckled when Jordan choked on his sip of tea. "He's not easily surprised, our Yddris. He has always butted heads with his apprentices, as you may know already, if Nika has been with you for any length of time. It doesn't mean he cares for them any less, mind. With you, though, I think he sees something of himself in you. He has higher hopes for your future than he has ever had for his own."

Jordan drank slower this time, turning her words over in his mind. "And if...and if we're too similar?"

"You mean the Devils."

Jordan stopped walking, horror curdling his insides. He had a sudden horrible vision of being driven out of the Guildtown now that she had found out, especially after she had personally explained the justice system to him. Had she been building up to this all along?

"Thorne." She shook his shoulder, and he realised he was spilling his tea into the mud at his feet. He tried to still his trembling with little effect. "Thorne, calm down. I'm not going to punish you for it."

"But..."

"Yddris explained it all. It is my job to know these things." She forced him to meet her eye. "Not in order to punish you, but in order to keep you safe as best I can. If you had gone to the Devils and offered your services willingly, if you had hidden your involvement until you were found out, we would have a different matter on our hands entirely. How do you think the Guild can arrange for an apprentice to disappear among the ranks of the Unspoken if we don't know who we're shielding them from? Well do I know how effectively the Devils can trap a man, and you're not the first I have had to assist in this way. Do you understand me?"

"I...I...Yes." He couldn't quite relax, but his gut did stop impersonating a sinking ship. "But what if..."

He stopped, the words running out like a tap turning off. Something moved among the trees, something that looked, as it was silhouetted against the light of the runes behind it, just like...

He dropped his cup and set off running before he could think, Cara calling after him as he pulled his hunting knife from his belt. A flash of metal on a curved blade confirmed his fears just as the creature flitted away through the brush, running parallel on the trees' side of the line of buildings. Jordan had not yet been this far along the path, but it began abruptly to open out, leaving him a clear view of the creature pacing him.

He stumbled and was almost sick with fear, but somehow his feet kept moving. He had dealt with this before. He could do it again, armed with better knowledge. If he let the thing go, it might kill another Unspoken and he'd have to do it all over again, feel that horrible fog of grief and pain descend on the one place he'd felt real peace since he'd stumbled through the portal.

"Nict rot your fucking guts!" he snarled as the thing pulled ahead. It was one of Akiva's favourite curses. Akiva the grave-robber, who'd shown Jordan how to dismember a corpse whether he'd wanted to know or not. Just because this one was running about was neither here nor there, he told himself. Blades would still do damage.

He became dimly aware of someone running after him. He glanced over his shoulder and found two Unspoken flanking him; Yddris was one of them.

"You cracked, boy?" he bellowed. "Let us deal with this!"

"It'll get away," Jordan growled. His breath heaved from him in great gasps, and despite his words he felt himself flagging. Bravado didn't make up for lack of stamina, and sheer bloody-mindedness wouldn't make up for lack of skill. He blinked, and suddenly realised he was running after something that could easily be his death this time round.

The three cloaked figures overtook him as he slowed. The path had opened right out and begun to wind down into the lower valley that Yerrit's precipice looked down over, and the trees were sparse over the rocky track. Instead of trying to catch up, he instead ran for a larger tree overlooking the slope. A river churned along the base of the valley which had been invisible from Yerrit's overhang. He steeled himself, coming to a halt at the bottom of the trunk. He had picked one with plenty of branches, but he still felt a shiver of trepidation as he braced his grip against the lowest and hauled himself up. If he could scale a townhouse wall, he could climb a tree.

He smiled humourlessly at himself when he realised he was practicing skills for the Devils in spite of all his brave parting words to Arlen. He could just imagine the smug look that would be on the assassin's face if he knew.

He grunted as he pushed himself to climb faster. His hands and feet found solid holds, not with anywhere near Jesper's efficiency, but still with a marked swiftness. He didn't look down. No number of drills had done anything for his vertigo.

He pulled himself over an upper branch, just before they grew too thin to hold him, and peered through the branches. Ren scampered out of his hood and sat on a cluster of thin branches further up, a fox-like impression of a lookout that might have made him laugh if he hadn't been two dozen feet off the ground trying to spot a potential murderer. In the gloom it was difficult to see anything, especially as the rocks on the slope disrupted the light of the rune nets and both pursuers and pursued were dressed entirely in black. He crept forward, cautiously allowing the branch to take more of his weight, and looked down. A flicker of movement drew his eye; they were nearing the river bank, but it was hard to tell who was who. The river wasn't wide but it flowed fast and strong – surely the thing wouldn't try and cross it.

Something sparked across his awareness. He was so focused on trying to find the chase in the dark that he almost missed it, but his straining to sense where Yddris's aura was as a marker alerted him to the change in the night's current. It was as if Nictaven had drawn in a breath and was waiting to release it. It was a familiar feeling, one he couldn't place immediately, until he had a sudden image of a patch of repaired castle wall, a memory of searing pain.

"It's a distraction," he said. Ren chirruped and scurried back down to his shoulder as he tried to untangle himself from his perch and find the next one down with his foot. He scanned the tree line – had that glow of green in the distance been there before? "Fuck, that's going to be a big net."

He lowered himself down as quickly as he dared. As it had always been in his lessons, going down was much more difficult that going up. He wasn't going to get down in time; if he paused and allowed the current to surround his thoughts, that held breath was ballooning, magic pulled towards the disruption like a magnet. He did laugh aloud that time. He was hurrying down a tree in the dark, because he felt disruption in an invisible current of magic that was only tangible inside his head. He hadn't ever pictured this as his alternative to the supermarket checkout job.

"Hello?" he called down, as a twig snapped below him. Cold terror receded as he recognised the aura of an Unspoken below.

An incredulous voice called up, "What are you doing up there?"

It wasn't an Unspoken Jordan was familiar with, but they were there and they weren't a murderous not-dead thing. When he reached the last few feet he jumped, and groaned as the impact jarred his knees. He never fucking learned.

"They're going to take out a net," he gasped, the words spilling out. "A big one. There was a thing with a blade, but I think it was just drawing the patrol off course."

"Yddris went after it?" the man said.

Jordan nodded, still trying to catch his breath after the shock of having the Unspoken sneak up without him noticing. "You're Henrik, aren't you?"

"Oh, he deigned to mention me, did he?" the Unspoken said, the humour hard-edged as he produced a knife from his belt and scanned the darkness. "I notice he hasn't formally introduced us, the sour old codger. Come on, we'll run this back to Cara. I think she was busy sending out a search party for you."

"Oh god," Jordan groaned. "They'll be heading in the wrong direction. They won't get there. Can you feel it?"

"Feel what?"

"The disruption." They were already running, back the way Jordan had come. He hadn't realised quite how far he'd run in his initial burst of brave stupidity. He was garbling the words through breath that sawed from his lungs. "It's like a balloon."

"Might I enquire as to what a balloon is?"

Fuck, done it again. "Uh...like a swelling waterskin?"

Henrik fell quiet. Jordan left him to it, too busy trying to keep himself from pitching forward.

When they reached the clearing, they found Cara where Jordan had left her, directing other Unspoken. She looked round at their approach and visibly sagged with relief, which caused an echoing spasm of guilt in Jordan. He had run off after a known dangerous entity without explanation or back-up, but hadn't thought beyond catching up.

"Thorne, that was reckless," she said, hurrying over. Jordan took the reprimand with a nod.

"They're working on one of the bigger nets," he said. "It was a distraction."

Instead of flying into a fury or a panic as he had half-expected, Cara's voice turned instantly business-like. She didn't waste words on verifying what he said, only asked, "Can you estimate how far out it was?"

"I'm no good with measurements," Jordan said, thinking, "It was well past the river, though."

"You don't think they want to take out the framework net, do you?" Henrik asked, speaking for the first time since they'd stopped. Unlike Cara, his voice betrayed his worry.

"It would not be inconceivable," Cara said. "Henrik, gather the warders and anyone fit for patrol. Thorne, how did you find this out?"

"I felt it," he said, then corrected, "can feel it. It's..." He checked, and winced at the swelling pressure. "It's going to hurt when that thing goes."

"Go with Henrik and show him where the breach is. I must get warning out to everyone before..."

The pressure burst. Though the trees around them remained motionless, it felt as though a vast force exploded through the forest towards them from all directions. The current roared to a peak in his brain, battering against the walls he put up against his awareness of it. He didn't remember when he'd fallen to his knees, could only focus on the ripping pain in every nerve. It was worse than when the castle wall had fallen. It felt like the current was trying to pull him into pieces along with the net.

Someone grabbed his shoulders, grounding him in the present, and he realised he was screaming.

"Yddris! Get Yddris, I don't care what he's doing!" a woman's voice ordered, pained but controlled. "Thorne, I need you to focus on my voice. Thorne."

The night closed over him, rippling with music and green fire.