Fifty Five: Fittings and Rumours

"Is there any way you could make this less awkward for both of us?" Arlen drawled. He tried not to shiver at the draught currently bothering his nether regions. The man in front of him taking measurements around his thigh only grunted.

"If you want one that actually fits, quit whining." Darin glared balefully at him from the corner where he had been conversing with a friend from the candle factory. "Before everyone gets as fed up with you as I am."

Arlen ignored him. Ever since the incident with the captive, Darin had been cold and short with him as if Arlen had ever pretended to be anything other than a Devil. The fact that the captive would have killed Arlen without a second thought given half a chance – he'd been commissioned to do exactly that, even, before Arlen caught him - didn't seem to factor into any of Darin's reasoning. He would have liked to know what exactly Darin had thought the Devils actually did, for it to distress him so much. He hadn't even let it go when Usk had put the would-be assassin out of his misery and killed him.

"If I let him go alive, he might come back and make another attempt on me!" Arlen had said, in the face of Darin's outrage. "I suppose if you were me, you'd just let him wander off, tell whoever he worked for where you lived and who you kept around you, and sit waiting for him to come back and try again? I don't have time for that shit."

Darin had left without another word.

The weeks that had followed, they had not spoken to each other once. Arlen had resigned himself to it and scouted around to find this engineer himself, but the night before Darin had reappeared at his window intending to take him. In Darin's position, Arlen admitted to himself, he would not have come back at all. So instead of biting back with equal animosity as he wanted to, he simply didn't dignify the barbs with any response.

"How fast can you make this thing?" Arlen asked. He hoped he didn't sound desperate, but what he had seen so far had looked too promising to keep the edge from his voice. Instead of an imitation foot, the prosthetic plans had detailed a kind of blade with a flat base, with a detachable framework that would allow him to wear a boot on it. The engineer had made no promises about running on it but hinted that it could be possible, depending on his outcomes. Walking upright had seemed far-fetched an idea enough up until this point. Arlen could adapt jobs and plans to suit his needs, as long as he could execute them in the first place.

"A few weeks at least," the engineer, Porter, straightened with a groan and returned to his work bench to write something down. "This is the first coin I've had in many a week that hasn't had to go straight on food."

A few weeks. Arlen could do a few weeks. He just didn't like the 'at least'.

"Good," he said, because he didn't have much choice. "Is the down payment sufficient?"

Porter's inherently surly face cracked into a wry smile. "Aye, sir. I thank you for your generosity."

Not generosity, Arlen thought, I'm paying to save my life. But if believing so maintained the man's goodwill enough to keep the pressure up on the project, Arlen was happy to let it lie.

He pulled his trousers back on over his undergarments, and then strapped his current prosthetic over the top of it. His stump still tingled and burned from Porter's prodding; the engineer had expressed some concern that it was too early for the wound to be carrying his weight on it, a concern that Arlen had roundly ignored, along with all the comments about how thoroughly covered up he was – above the waist, at any rate – and the number and severity of the scars on his legs. Arlen had clenched his jaw and taken it, even as he wanted to deck Porter for the audacity. He needed the man far too much to carry through.

"I'll return in two weeks?" Arlen said.

"Aye. I'll have a test model ready by then."

Arlen nodded. "Thank you."

He turned and walked out of the workroom without waiting to see if Darin was going to follow. He'd barely made it to the main street when he caught up.

"I think that's the first time I've heard you thank someone since you were young enough that Pa boxed your ears for forgetting."

"Never forgot to," Arlen countered. "Manners are for people who give a shit."

"Or want any kind of place in regular society."

"Well then," Arlen grinned nastily, "didn't need to bother, did I?"

Darin just rolled his eyes and changed the subject. "When's your lad getting back? People are going to be arriving for the Light Fayre before too long."

It was a topic that had also occupied Arlen of late. He had half-promised Marick that the boy would be back before the Fayre, but it was more a hope than anything. If the break would stop the boy from cracking that was all fine, but he didn't want him to be gone so long that he forgot everything he'd been taught so far. It would also give that witch man ample opportunity to sink his claws deeper. Arlen wasn't stupid; he had always known he would war with Yddris over the boy's loyalty, but he couldn't exactly work on that when the kid had been whisked out from under his nose. It was a reminder, however, that Arlen had been so focused on regaining mobility and repairing his reputation within the Guild that he had neglected to prepare for his apprentice's return. Marick had seen him so infrequently it was starting to look like avoidance, and with Angels in the city that made Arlen more uneasy than ever. Usk had suggested once that Marick had dealings with them. He had scoffed at the time, but the idea had never quite left him. It felt more important than ever to start moving in a better direction.

He realised he'd let the silence stretch when Darin sighed in impatience.

"I don't know. He couldn't give me specifics."

"I'd be surprised if the lord hasn't sent for Yddris with this delegation here."

Arlen hadn't considered that, and hated that he hadn't. He was getting too rusty. "Probably. But this witch man village is two weeks across the Barrens. Even if the lord sent the message immediately and the witch man set off the moment he received it, they won't be back for another week at least. And I bet neither happened."

"I'll look forward to it. The only Devil I don't find absolutely revolting."

"For someone who thinks so little of us, you sure spend a lot of time hassling me," Arlen muttered. "You haven't spoken a word to me for weeks because an assassin killed another assassin. What about that could possibly have shocked you?"

"You miss me?" Darin asked with a provocative little smirk, but before Arlen could get fired up in response he added, "It wasn't the killing. I could've understood it, I guess, if you gave him a quick end for your own safety. It was the chaining up and torturing. And that not only did you see nothing wrong with it, you enjoyed it. At least, you enjoyed taunting me with it." He shook his head slightly. "Sometimes I wonder what in Kiel's name they did to you."

"Don't you fucking go there." Arlen snarled it. If he hadn't been using it to walk, he would have applied his walking stick generously to the back of the man's head. "Don't you fucking dare. That's got nothing to do with it, and if you mention it again I'll shove this stick so far up your arse that you'll taste polish for a week."

"With all this charm and wit it's a wonder you don't have a love life." Darin seemed unaffected by the threat. "I suppose it's hard having them here, in your face."

"What did I just say?" Arlen growled. "If I'd been in Harkenn's position I would've gutted them as they came in the gates and used the feathers for stuffing pillows. But I wasn't, and now you're going to shut up about it."

"What are we shutting up about?" Usk materialised from a side alley as they approached the street where they'd left the wagon. Arlen had bought it himself for his own use and simply hired the horses. It meant he had to cover up more thoroughly while he rode in the open air, but it also meant that he could keep a much closer eye on whoever was driving and that it was ten times harder to conceal an ambush around it. If he hired horses from a different place each time, no one could sabotage him that way, either. And a heavily-clothed open air wagon ride was better than a ropey trip across the Aven in a dinghy.

"We've already shut up about it, so it doesn't matter." Arlen glared at Darin out of the corner of his good eye, and the man pretended not to see it. "How did Jes and Akiva do in trying to pin down our employer?"

"Not well," Usk said, and Arlen suppressed a sigh. He wasn't surprised. If Marick didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. Something in Usk's expression alerted him that there was more, but he didn't want to discuss anything of that nature in front of Darin. He could tell the man was listening, even if he affected disinterest. He wasn't sure he liked this new development; his mother's death had brought something out in Darin that Arlen couldn't pinpoint. Would Darin have ever allowed him back to visit after witnessing the captive, if his mother had still been alive? Unlikely. Even less likely that he would ever have demanded a guide to Arlen's home in the first place. If he wanted something, Arlen couldn't figure out what it was. He could cover the rent on his own now; Arlen only gave him a smaller sum for food and clothing repairs. There was no reason Darin had to see him at all if he didn't want to, if he found him so 'revolting'. Yet here he was, climbing into Arlen's wagon like it was a given that he was going with them. He eyed Usk with distaste and suspicion as he got up into the driving seat, but no more than that. After weeks of silence, it was unnerving.

Arlen made little effort to maintain conversation as they rode. Everything out of Darin's mouth seemed designed to antagonise him, as if he didn't believe Arlen would carry through on his threats. Well, perhaps he would have to, to make the point. There had once been a time where Darin looked up to him, and the thought almost made him bark a laugh. It seemed a lifetime ago now, as undeserved and unwanted then as it was now.

"You haven't visited her yet." Darin spoke it softly as they left the steel district and entered the merchants' quarter. Usk stared resolutely forward. "Have you?"

"Why would I? It's not like we can share a pint and have a chat."

Darin flinched but tried to cover it with a glower. "For paying respects, perhaps."

"I'm Nict. That's a Kelian thing."

"She was Kelian."

Arlen willed the wagon to drive faster. "I'm not having this discussion."

"That's a lot of discussions you're not having."

Arlen didn't respond. If they hadn't at that moment passed through a street with witnesses he might have followed through on his conviction to make good on his threats. By the time they'd turned onto another, quieter road, he had brought himself back down from it. Darin could easily ruin this project for him if Arlen gave him an excuse and he couldn't risk that, tempting as it was to see how much of the walking stick would fit.

The city guard had returned to the streets in the intervening weeks since he and Silas had seen the Angels in the merchants' quarter. At least Harkenn had put his foot down over that one thing, though Arlen thought it foolish – at the mildest – to allow them to stay in the castle without bars on their lodgings. He'd heard rumours that action had been taken over the individuals they'd roughed up before they got there, but if they weren't dead then in his opinion they'd got off far too easily. No one seemed to know what they were discussing up there, but their mere presence had brought the rioting down to a simmer, and then down to nothing but grumbling in dark pub corners and complaining with the neighbours. They'd brought rations with them which had been distributed to the shelters without qualm, but discussions still seemed ongoing. Arlen had seen neither hide nor hair of an Angel since they'd arrived.

Not that he was complaining about that. City guard were much more fallible that Angels; as they passed a small patrol unit, Arlen kept his eyes ahead and only nodded a vague greeting, as if he had more important things to worry about. One soldier stared at Usk for longer than was necessary despite the wide-brimmed hat and bandanna he wore, with the gloves to cover his tattoo, but that wasn't unusual. Usk's sheer size was enough to gain him a second glance even if he wasn't connected with the wanted posters. If he hadn't proven himself such an adept escape and evasion artist Arlen might have been reluctant to keep such a conspicuous man around.

"How do you never get caught?" Darin muttered, as the patrol passed them by without stopping.

"Practice."

Darin glared at him as if he thought Arlen was joking, but if that was the case then it was just another thing he would likely be disillusioned of in short order.

The rest of the ride was conducted in silence, to Arlen's relief. Darin seemed to have finally tired of him completely and made no effort to talk. All around them were signs of the city preparing for the light season, and the sky had seen fit to bless them with a dull grey light rather than blackness. The mountains were now visibly green again. Most of the traffic they passed was wagonloads of supplies, though it wasn't as much as he might have expected in better years. It was going to be a subdued one this time. Considering it would be his most miserable light season yet, he felt it suited his mood.

They left Darin outside his crumbling boarding house with a tentative agreement that at some point he would give Arlen an update on the project, likely through Usk. Arlen wanted to keep Silas away from him as far as possible. After weeks of teaching him his basic training, it was time to start firmly putting the boundaries back in. Despite Arlen never suggesting otherwise, the kid would not take well to being put aside again in favour of Jordan, and he'd seemed alarmingly sure of his position after they'd returned from the witch man's house. He had been more attentive in lessons and said things about loyalty and obedience so grandiose and unnecessary that they made Arlen nauseous. No, he would not take well to it. If there was a time the two would come to blows, it would likely be over that. He'd have to see what he could do about finding Silas another teacher before he drove everyone to cracking, but being able to find Marick would have been extremely useful for that.

As soon as Darin's road was out of sight, Arlen heaved himself onto the bench right behind Usk's seat and leaned back to ask, "Marick?"

"Jes and Akiva, actually. They heard some rumours while they were poking around that you won't like and neither will Marick. They came to blows over it."

Night take me, what now? "They've been fighting?"

"Aye. One believes them, the other defended you."

"Do you believe them?"

"Arl, I've been with you for longer than all of them put together. You'd have a job hiding a plot to overthrow Marick from me."

Arlen's stomach lurched. Just because Jesper and Akiva had rooted it out didn't necessarily mean that it was widespread, but the fact that it was circulating at all was bad enough. Was this why Marick was avoiding him, to see what he would do? Did the Devil leader know of it? Surely he wouldn't believe it. Arlen had served Marick for almost two decades, starting with backing his overthrow of the previous leader all the way until his rise to second rank. You couldn't pay for loyalty like that. Surely a half-baked rumour couldn't dismantle all that work.

But it could if Marick had been planning to get rid of him anyway. He had spent months in convalescence with the amputation – what if he had finally tired of waiting? If that was the case, Marick could have spread that rumour himself, just to give him legitimate cause to have Arlen killed. The mere thought of it seemed to start rearranging his life as he knew it before his eyes. The boy – teaching the boy well and training him to loyalty was his best hope, even if Marick wasn't behind it. Someone was trying to get him killed, and the presence of a loyal apprentice would force them to be blatant about it.

"I can almost hear your braining working from here." Usk's voice was a low rumble. Arlen had no idea how much time he had spent in contemplation of his own doom.

"Which of them believed it?" he demanded. He wouldn't have the rot starting in his own group.

"Believed might be a bit strong," Usk said. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "But Jesper seemed to think it was plausible."

"He's still got a stick in his craw over Darin, hasn't he?"

"Not just that. He pointed out that you've gone against Marick on a number of things recently."

"You were all behind me with it. None of you had to take any part. Fuck, it's not like I could make you if I wanted to. He's as bad as I am."

"Not quite." Usk sighed. "You are so preoccupied with how everyone is out to get you that you do not recognise true loyalty when you see it. I, and the others, did those things because we believed in you, not in the plans themselves. Which is why Jesper has taken these rumours so awry, to think that you would hide it from us like you did with your brother."

"He's not my brother," Arlen ground out. "And if you thought the plans were a bad idea then I'd rather you said so than go along with it for some...some..." He made a noise in his throat. "Why do you bother spouting demonshit like this at me?"

"Because it's not demonshit." Usk couldn't raise his voice in public, but if they had been alone Arlen knew from his tone that he would have thundered the words. "This is your biggest blindspot, Arl. To get through this, you need us. You need Haverford. Especially if Marick chooses to believe these rumours; you offer him the very same loyalty that you are now choosing not to acknowledge that I have to you, and recently he has not earned it." The Varthian turned to pay attention to a bend in the road, but over his shoulder he said, "I don't believe you have plotted an overthrow. Your reaction told me enough even if I'd had doubts. But if you did, Arlen Blackheart," a yellow eye fixed on Arlen's good one, "I would follow you. And so would the lads. Haverford, too, if you play your cards right." He turned away again. "Even if you didn't, your best chances lie in not treating us like we're liars and morons when we've followed you this far, stayed with you throughout all of this with your leg even while Marick tidies you away into the corner. And that's all I'm going to say on the matter."

Arlen had nothing to say in response.