He wasn't supposed to be this anxious, he was sure of it. He wasn't the one taking the black. All the same, tension held Jordan stiff in his chair as total quiet rippled through the clearing. For a moment, all he could hear was his breath and the pulse of the current, each beat of which sent faint pains through his body. The fire in the centre now blazed high. Koen and Cara stood alone in the space as Hap retreated to stand in the front row.
Cara now held a book in her hands, a ledger that looked older than anyone present. "Please place your hand on the ledger, Koen."
Removing his glove, Koen did so. As his sleeve slipped back it revealed the marks of magic's passage over every inch of skin. After the net collapse, Jordan had discovered new marks on himself as he bathed; they now covered the entirety of his torso and had begun to creep down one leg. Some of those appearing in recent weeks looked distinctly like runes.
"You have read the oaths," Cara continued, her voice carrying effortlessly. The trees rebounded it back at them, until it seemed as though this ceremony took place in a bubble separate from the rest of the world. "You understand them and accept them?"
"I do."
"You pledge to follow them for as long as you wear the cloak and represent our people?"
"I do."
"You accept the consequences for breaking with our laws and your oaths?"
"I do."
"And you pledge your service to the Guild and the people of Nictaven for as long as you are able?"
Koen drew himself up, appearing to take a steadying breath. "I do."
Cara stepped back, and Koen's hand slipped from the ledger. "Then step into the fire."
Jordan swallowed. Though he knew the fire couldn't hurt Koen â not this kind â he knew he would hesitate before stepping bodily into a blaze like that. He hadn't been told what this ceremony entailed, and couldn't stop himself thinking of witch burnings back in earth's history. Did this mean that witches had been real after all? He shuddered. There were too many questions he would never know the answers to.
Koen turned and stepped into the blaze, disappearing into the wall of green flame. It seemed to burn brighter and denser to conceal the man inside. Jordan was sure it was deliberate, though he couldn't guess why until Cara returned to the fireside carrying a folded bundle in her arms. Hap joined her, clutching a sheaf of papers to his chest.
At some unspoken signal, Cara thrust the bundle into the fire and drew her hands out without it. The whole clearing seemed to hold its breath. Jordan glanced up at Yddris, who shook his head minutely. He turned back. His resentment at the whole process had fled him at the revelation that Koen was more worried about this than Jordan had ever been. The fact that Jordan had thought it would affect anything between them seemed churlish now; his friend had not changed his manner at all as the date crept closer, and Jordan realised he had been anticipating some great sea change between the brown and the black cloak.
All the same, he was nervous. This was his future, too. Who would he be then? The changes wrought by the Gift happened long before the change of cloak; he already sensed some of them in himself. He sensed it in Grace's manner with him sometimes. To the Devils, he was and always would be the witch man. Jordan Haverford as he had been when he fell through the portal no longer existed.
He turned his thoughts aside from that, feeling faintly sick.
Koen stepped from the fire. While concealed by the blaze, he had changed from his brown apprentice cloak to a black one, which must have been the bundle Cara had handed to him. The circle of identically dressed figures looked on as he joined Hap and Cara, clutching the old cloak in his hands. One by one, around the circle, Unspoken lit small balls of flame in their palms and held them aloft.
"We don't need to," Astra whispered to him, before Jordan could ask.
Jordan buried his fingers in Ren's fur instead, taking comfort in the familiar rumble and the rise and fall of her little body. The clearing grew even brighter, rings of glowing flames surrounding the central inferno. Koen took the sheaf of papers from Hap and thrust both the papers and the cloak into the fire; this time the flames ate through them as all fire would, smoke rising towards the canopy as they burned away.
A pause followed that stretched on for eternity and a second. Then Hap and Koen embraced, the balls of flame went out, the blaze burned abruptly to embers and the crowd surged inward. Jordan found himself wheeled quickly backwards to avoid being knocked over or trampled in the crush. Yddris brought him to a stop near the doorway of the main building, and Astra joined them a moment later.
"You alright here for a moment, boy?" Yddris asked. "I should go and offer my own congratulations."
"I'm fine," Jordan said faintly. His tutor strode away to join the black-clad chaos in the centre of the clearing.
"Oloe will be next," Astra said. Her voice sounded strangely stilted.
"Are you alright?" Jordan murmured. He supposed it would be hard for her to see it, knowing Kolter wouldn't ever be present for her own ceremony. The idea of going through this without Yddris already rang strangely in his head. Instinctively he searched for his tutor's aura in the crowd, and then a jolt of pain reminded him not to exert his magic yet. It also drew his attention to just how bizarre it was that he had felt a need to reassure himself that way.
"No," she said simply. "But I will have to be."
Taking a gamble and hoping he didn't look too desperate for her to like him, Jordan asked, "Koen and I were planning to hide out at Thirris's with a barrel of ale and some food as soon as he gets a free moment. Do you want to join us?"
"I would like that," she said. "As long as you make sure there's cake."
"I'm sure we can arrange that." He grinned. She was quiet, but he didn't think it was a disapproving silence.
Slowly the crowd was dispersing. With the threat of the storm gone, Jordan anticipated that the gathering would last longer this time, especially since the centre was the safest place to be. Even if the woods were stalked by an unnatural killer, they weren't known to attack Unspoken in any numbers. Already a group had gone to fetch food and drink. Jordan resolved not to drink nearly as much this time, no matter how much he was offered.
A figure detached itself from the rabble and wandered over. Bereft of his ability to sense aura as sensitively as normal for the time being, Jordan felt oddly apprehensive that he couldn't work out who it was until they were almost beside him. It was Thirris.
"Yddris is with Hap," he said by way of greeting. "The graduation can be just as hard on the tutor as the student. Especially if they're your last."
Yddris had mentioned once that Jordan would be his last student, but Jordan didn't dwell on that thought. "Was Yddris your last apprentice?"
"Oh, Kiel's beard, no," Thirris said, chuckling. "How old do you think I am? Yddris was my second. I've seen five Unspoken through graduation. I was what some might call a natural teacher â I enjoyed having students, and so I took on more than others might. Teaching is not for everyone. Some Unspoken only ever take one."
"Do any ever choose not to at all?"
"Of course. And there's always the issue of whether there is an apprentice to teach." Thirris's voice grew more solemn. "Back in my day, the Gift showed much more frequently than it does now. Yddris had fifteen peers, I believe, and he manifested at a low point. Three apprentices for the entire Guild is unheard of."
Jordan frowned, fidgeting in his chair. He turned the subject aside. "Yddris never mentions your other apprentices."
"Oh, well, they don't have much to do with each other." Thirris shrugged. "They are rarely visiting at the same time. And why would they, particularly? Your situation is unique. I never had to share training time with the Lord of the Reach, and so they did not assist me the way Nika has helped with you. They are friendly, of course. They just don't cross paths often enough to be more than that."
At some point Astra had drifted away. Jordan hadn't noticed her leave, so absorbed was he in the conversation. Yddris was never forthcoming about himself, so Thirris was his best chance of getting to know more about the man's past. He knew but didn't acknowledge that he was filtering through the information to try and glean something about his tutor's history with the Devils, or as Harkenn's assassin. Either Thirris had never known, or the old man was doing well at keeping all hint of it from what he said. He suspected the latter was more likely.
"I can't imagine Yddris as a student," he muttered, almost to himself, but Thirris heard and laughed.
"I'm sure any apprentice would say the same of their teachers. Anyway, you're letting me talk your ears off again. I'll go and get us some food."
Jordan watched him go, wishing there was some way of asking the man outright. He certainly couldn't with Yddris. He was just starting to feel an understanding with his tutor, and bringing those topics up here, where they'd both come to get away from it, felt like a step backward.
He'd rather Thirris had stayed to talk his ears off than left him alone with his own thoughts. Once the Devils had entered them, they wouldn't leave. They had been in the Guildtown for a small handful of weeks now; their main reason for coming had just happened a lot earlier than expected. How long did that leave, before Yddris's duties called him back to the Reach, and Jordan with him? Despite the fact that he missed Grace with a passion, he found he didn't want to go back just yet. Not with Arlen waiting for him, and certainly not with Marick's shadow constantly looming. The tattoo between his shoulders prickled, and he felt again the tattooist's hand pinning his head to the bench.
Thirris interrupted that train of thought by arriving with soup. Jordan was grateful that the man had not selected anything more solid, as his stomach still felt scorched. The old Unspoken seemed content to let the celebration happen around him, so Jordan followed his lead. He was almost grateful to be confined to a wheelchair for the evening; he didn't think he could have summoned up the enthusiasm to dance or drink.
It was a long time before he caught any glimpse of Koen â though he supposed he could easily have missed him, without aura to guide him. Some time after the celebration had begun, after everyone had eaten and drunk themselves into a stupor around the fire, a black-cloaked figure extracted himself from the throng and staggered over. Jordan hadn't moved once from his spot against the wall, quite content to watch the proceedings from the outside, to watch the long shadows play on the tree trunks and eavesdrop on the conversations that drew close enough for him to hear them. Thirris had occasionally pointed someone out and plucked something from his seemingly inexhaustible knowledge of the Guild, but other than that they had sat together in contented quiet.
"You've not joined in at all," Koen said accusingly, but there was no heat in it. He was clearly several drinks deep.
"I hate to point out the obvious, but..." Jordan gestured at the wheelchair he sat in, smiling despite himself as Koen collapsed on the bench Thirris perched on.
"Oh yeah." Koen hiccupped. "I feel sick."
"Jesus, Koen," Jordan laughed aloud this time, "how many times does Hap have to tell you?"
The Unspoken peered at him, eyes seeming to glow brighter than ever against the black of his hood. "You're going to have to tell me...who this Jesus guy is."
Before Jordan could respond, Cara stood up. So many of the Unspoken were sitting or leaning against chairs and benches by then that all eyes were immediately drawn to her. She paced into the centre of the clearing once more. Jordan expected her to disperse the gathering or make some sort of announcement; he couldn't have been more surprised that she began to sing instead.
The song had no lyrics that Jordan could make out. Cara's voice was not unpleasant, though also not a great musical talent - yet Jordan felt something catch in his throat at the melody. He was sure he had heard it somewhere before, but recognised it only distantly as if he had heard it in childhood. He didn't think that was particularly likely, but also couldn't place where he knew it from.
He listened intently, blinking when a high, clear voice joined in. Astra stood alone at the edge of the circle, hands relaxed at her sides. Hers and Cara's voices appeared to have a kind of conversation that resonated strangely, though he didn't think it was to do with anything physical. In the back of his mind, the current made itself known again. He experienced a spike of panic, but when no burning pain accompanied the feeling, he allowed himself to relax into the rhythm. It fit in oddly well with the song.
Several more voices joined in. Some were much more tuneful than others, but mixed into one it still felt and sounded harmonious. Small flames flared in palms as the central fire died to nothing but embers, leaving them in the dim glow of the surrounding rune nets and the magic at their fingertips â a strange constellation. Occasionally the bright pinpricks of eyes would appear and disappear as people moved. Beside Jordan, Thirris was humming the tune.
"What is this song?" he whispered. It took him a moment to remember how to form the words, absorbed as he was in picking apart the tune.
"Nictaven." Thirris's voice was far away. "Open yourself to it, boy. You know it, deep down."
He did know it. Dimly, like a memory. By now, most of the Guild had joined in. The song rebounded off the trees and carried on the wind. It filled his ears, and the current filled his thoughts.
Hesitantly, he began to hum. To his surprise, the notes came out without effort, like muscle memory. He closed his eyes and let himself float, dismissing the pain of his body and concentrating only on the music. He was aware of every individual in the clearing, like flickering flames. He had never been religious, but if the experience wasn't spiritual, he didn't know what was. He opened his mouth, and smiled, and Nictaven's song spilled forth.
"I feel like I had a bad drug trip." An hour later, Jordan slouched against the back wall of Thirris's house with a pounding head and a cigarette in his hand. "But also...a good drug trip. Does that make sense?"
"Not in the slightest." Koen's voice echoed in the pail that he had his head over.
"It does to me," Astra said. She alone seemed physically unaffected by the events of the night, perched in a chair on the veranda and making her way through her second slice of the cake they'd pilfered from the food tables. The celebration wasn't over yet, but after Jordan had had a nosebleed and Koen had thrown up down the wall of the Guildtown main hall, Thirris had agreed to escort them home. It wasn't until they'd reached the front door that Jordan had realised Astra had tagged along, helping Koen back while Thirris pushed Jordan's chair.
Ren prowled in from the garden looking pleased with herself and curled up on the decking between Jordan's chair and Astra's. Jordan took another dispirited drag of his cigarette. He was doomed to spend half of this trip feeling ill, it seemed.
Koen resurfaced from his bucket with a groan and put it down between his feet. "I think I'm done for now."
"You did already leave most of it on Irata's front step," Jordan said.
"Shut up, Thorne."
They both tried to rib each other at the same time, and subsided with twin groans of pain. Astra shook her head at them.
"I've got a new tutor," she announced suddenly into the silence.
"Ey?" Koen said, sitting upright again. "Since when? Who?"
"I accepted an offer during the gathering," she said. "Henrik is going to teach my last couple of years."
"Yddris will like that," Jordan said. Astra shrugged.
"I think it was on Yddris's recommendation that he offered. He said it was better that it be someone with plenty of teaching experience already, since we'd be starting in the middle." Her voice trailed off. "I am happy with the offer."
"Then I'm happy for you," Koen said. Jordan nodded in agreement.
She was silent for a time. Jordan considered the development â he hadn't expected Henrik to be her choice. The jovial Unspoken he'd met seemed a sharp contrast to quiet, serious Astra; but he supposed there was equal possibility that that would be exactly why it worked out. Plus, he thought, Henrik was another opportunity to find out more about his own tutor. Perhaps he knew more than even Thirris did.
"It still feels as though I am betraying him." The words came out in a whisper.
"Don't think like that," Koen said. "It's not a betrayal to continue with your training. He'd want that for you."
The Unspoken staggered to his feet and steadied himself against the wall. With surprising strength he pulled Astra to her feet and into an embrace. Even more surprising was that she accepted it. He looked aside and tamped out his cigarette into the ash bucket by his chair, feeling intrusive.
"Oi, Thorne." Koen forced him to look back. "Get over here. You need help standing?"
"Huh?"
Koen returned to where Jordan sat and offered an arm. He dragged Astra over with him.
His legs protested as he stood; he was exhausted. Miraculously they held him, with plenty of help from Koen's supporting arm.
"Group hug," Koen declared, and squished Astra and Jordan together. "I need it as much as anyone."
"Sap," Jordan said, but squeezed back.
"Saps plural," Yddris grunted, appearing in the doorway to the veranda. There was another Unspoken behind him, but Jordan didn't even try and quest forward to see who it was. The base of his nose still prickled with dried blood from his last attempt at magic.
"Oh, fuck off," Jordan muttered, grinning as he sat back in his chair. "You can be just as sappy. I've seen it with my own eyes."
"Must be playing tricks on you," the Unspoken mumbled. "Move over, I'm having a pipe. What's that smell?"
"Koen," Jordan and Astra both said together. They laughed.
Perhaps the whole thing hadn't been such a disaster after all.