Fifty Six: Resolve

Jordan surveyed the herbs and fungi laid out in front of him and looked up at Nadiya with suspicion. "I thought you were a physician."

The Unspoken woman didn't betray any thoughts in her words as she replied, "Yes. I am."

"Then why are you showing me these?" He eyed a mushroom with inky black gills with distaste. "You just said that that one is incurable poison." He pointed out a more innocuous looking plant. "And that that one makes a man choke on his own tongue."

"I did." For a moment Jordan wondered if Nadiya was going to give him any kind of answer, but then she gave a light sigh. "Why do you think I'm showing you these, Thorne?"

"To remind me that there are worse ways to die than demons?" Jordan asked drily, only half-joking. Nadiya chuckled and shook her head. "Can they be medicinal if used in the right way?"

"Cara has requested that you return to the Reach as able to defend yourself as we can manage in such a short time. And she would prefer you to learn things such as this from someone with a more... attuned moral compass. Her words, not mine. This knowledge will come in handy throughout your life. It may even save it one day."

"Oh." Jordan wasn't sure how to take this revelation. "You...you think someone might try to poison me?"

Nadiya looked at him for a long time, as if deciding how to word something. "It's unlikely, while you are with the Devils. Your teacher, whoever they are, will protect you. If you leave when you take the black, and you are discovered or the ties are not severed as neatly as one would like, this knowledge can always be useful. They do not always remove liabilities with a threat you can see."

The whole concept made him want to curl into a ball and retch, but he made himself nod. He didn't want to find out how the Devils would teach him a topic like this. Certainly not in a tidy little office like this one, with Yddris in shouting distance and the plants laid out in plain view. He didn't think Arlen favoured poisons as a method for his work, but all of them carried vials of various powders and substances around with them. Not all of them were smoke bombs or belladonna. There were still a few vials rattling about in the bottom of his knapsack at Thirris's. He hadn't been able to bear the thought that Nika might find them if he left them in his bedroom in the Reach.

"Does Yddris know all this?"

"Yes."

Of course he did. Jordan wasn't learning anything his tutor hadn't done before him, yet they had never had any in-depth conversation about it. The closest they had come was the day Harkenn discovered Jordan's links to the assassins' guild. He didn't think he ever would get more than that. Not even if he was scheduled to spend the afternoon with Yddris, arming himself to the gills for the same reasons as he was now staring at death-flora.

If you could see me now, Grace, he thought numbly, as Nadiya began quizzing him on the properties of the herbs they'd gone over. Thinking of his sister didn't make him feel any better. When they got back, she would want answers, some of which he couldn't give her and others that he didn't want to. Damn Arlen for making it all so much worse than it needed to be.

"Thorne. You must focus." He realised he'd been allowing Nadiya's explanations to wash over him for a while now; she must have asked him a question. His face flushed.

"Sorry." He forced his eyes back to the table. "I just hate that I have to learn this stuff."

"It is information worth knowing for anyone." Nadiya's voice was soft. "Nika will have as much working knowledge of it as you for treating patients. If it helps at all, frame it that way."

He nodded, swallowing. It did help, a little. If he didn't allow himself to think about what Nika would say if he found out about Jordan's double life.

Yddris waited for him outside when he finally emerged into weak daylight, clutching a copy of a herb lore compendium that Nadiya urged him to study in free moments. She had added markers for the bits she felt would be most useful to him, but the task was still daunting – the tome was bigger than his rune textbook and his schedule was booked solid. He would even be seeing her again before they left, to cover wound treatments this time. Among his continuing control practices with Cara, weapons training with Yddris, history with Thirris and tutorial with Nadiya, his brain was buzzing with information that vied for his full attention, which he couldn't give to any one of them, let alone all.

Yddris began walking the moment Jordan reached him. The crackling in the air warned him that his tutor was not in the best of moods. He hadn't been since the letter arrived, and Jordan suspected the prospect of returning to the Reach weighed on the Unspoken, too. The easy companionship that had sprung up over the weeks here had returned to silences full of unsaid things. Jordan couldn't help but resent Yddris for never acknowledging out loud that they shared this link with the Devils, but he also knew that his involvement dragged Yddris back to a place and time he clearly didn't want to revisit. The mutual disgruntlement was proving a hard hurdle to leap. At least in the Guildtown, they could both ignore it and pretend that conversation wouldn't have to happen eventually.

"Is anyone coming back with us?" Jordan asked, mostly just to break the silence.

"No." Yddris seemed to make an effort to temper his surliness. "Hap and Koen will follow when we would have left if we hadn't received the missive. I expect Henrik and Astra will go with them. But this trip is just you and me, boy. We'll have to make good time once we get going."

"Are you worried about Nika?" Jordan asked. He was. He didn't like the idea that Arlen was sneaking around Yddris's house at night.

"Nika is more than capable of looking after himself," Yddris replied. Jordan sensed from his tone that he'd unintentionally nudged a sore point, but no matter which way he looked at it he couldn't figure out why. He decided to leave that can of worms unopened.

The Guildtown smithy was built after the same squat, low-slung style of the other communal buildings, only it was open-fronted and made of stone rather than wood. A large chimney, currently quiet, occupied most of the roof space. The area around the hut's entrance was littered with tools and hunks of metal, and small pits in the ground filled with coal rubble. The stores were an adjoining building that smelled strongly of scorched metal as Yddris heaved the door open. Inside were lines of weapons and blades, some shining with polish and others still muddy bronze from the forge.

"We trade these with the Varthians," Yddris said, pointing at a rack of spears in various states of assembly. "You're not using those."

Jordan, who hadn't thought he was, said nothing as his tutor perused the shelves, lighting a small green fire in his palm to see better. Lines of long and short knives, swords and axes greeted the flickering light. Jordan hadn't considered the Unspoken to be a particularly martial group, but the size and variety of the weapon store suggested otherwise.

"Let me see that hunting knife Blackheart gave you." Yddris held out his hand. Jordan unslung the blade from his belt and handed it over. His tutor gave it a thorough inspection. "Pretty good blade, actually. I'm happy for you to keep that one, but it's not much good for combat. In the hands of a hunter, it's a hunting blade. In the hands of a criminal, it's most commonly found in people's backs." He gave it back, and as Jordan refastened it, feeling a bit nauseous, his tutor began pulling weapons off the shelves and piling them in the crook of his arm. He watched a belt knife, a sword, two sizes of axe and three different styles of medium-length blade join the pile with growing consternation.

"We're trying you out on them," Yddris said, as if he caught the gist of Jordan's thoughts. "Finding one that you can work with is enough for today. I have a feeling the sword and the single axe might be a long shot, but we'll try them."

"I've never seen an Unspoken with a sword."

"Like I said, long shot." Yddris shouldered his way out of the shed and Jordan followed. "It doesn't leave enough room to manoeuvre for rune-casting. Only extremely dexterous types can manage it, and of them most don't bother."

"Can you do it?"

"In a pinch. If it's the only weapon to hand." Of course you can. "Right. I think these will suit you best, so we'll start here."

Yddris handed him one of the medium-length knives. What followed was, in Jordan's mind, a bit of a disaster. His tutor demonstrated with a similar knife of his own, and Jordan attempted to follow the move, sensing the Yddris was closely evaluating him and having no idea whether he was doing well. Twice, he was concentrating so hard on the blade he placed his feet badly and lost his balance. The knife was heavier than his dagger and balanced differently to the hunting blade, and he had never practiced one on one combat with anything other than a stick or his fists. It got almost impossibly more comical once Yddris handed him the second blade of the pair.

"Maybe just the one," Yddris said, while Jordan caught his breath. "I should tell you now, boy, these are for self-defence. One of these can keep you clear for a rune-casting or give you an outing to run away. You should only use them to wound if you cannot see any other way out of a life-threatening situation. Do you get me?"

Jordan glowered. "I wasn't planning to run around stabbing people."

"I didn't say you were, boy. It doesn't mean someone won't expect you to at some stage."

Jordan straightened. "I won't do it."

"Good," Yddris said gruffly. "Keep that conviction. I'll teach you how to use this alongside the others. Thinking again, I think you'd be an absolute menace with an axe and not in a good way. Stick to physical only unless your opponent also has a weapon. No magic, either." His tutor fixed him with a serious look. "It's in the laws and the oaths for a reason. Under no circumstances whatsoever is it legal or acceptable to use your magic against another human."

Jordan's thoughts went straight to the blind panic of the night Marick had burned the food stores. Usk had said he'd dealt someone nasty burns on the escape. He felt suddenly nauseous. "What if it was an accident?"

"Before you graduate, I would take the consequences for an accident." Jordan couldn't tell from Yddris's neutral tone whether the Unspoken knew that he had already broken that rule. "If you have an accident like that after you graduate, you weren't ready to graduate. We would both be punished for that."

"Fair." But the sickness lingered in the pit of his stomach. The most dangerous thing about him, as it had been for months now, was as intrinsic to him as breathing. He could leave his blades behind, keep his fists down, and everyone would still know that danger ran in his blood no matter how unassuming he tried to be. Would Arlen expect him to use it, just because he had it? Would Marick? They had both mentioned his being Unspoken as a point in his favour, and why would they say so if they didn't see it as something to use?

"I don't want to go back yet." He spoke as if outside himself, and realised it was true. No matter how many times he told himself that he would see Grace and Nika again, it just wasn't enough to make him look forward to it.

"I know, boy." Yddris's voice betrayed that the Unspoken understood perfectly. A pause. There seemed nothing else to add to the statement, but Jordan felt better for admitting it. His tutor sighed. "Let's get you some food."

On their return to Thirris's, Jordan paid more attention to the buildings and the people they passed than he ever had before, trying to absorb it all before he was forced to return to the double life he hated. Though he had doubted it before, this small town in the depths of the forest had started to feel like the closest thing to a home he had now. He didn't have to be self-conscious of his cloak or his magic here. He hadn't realised how much he had enjoyed that until the threat of losing it loomed large. They passed buildings bustling with Unspoken; some strolled up the avenue between them as if no threat lurked at their borders, as if they didn't have several others running tight patrols in the event of another breach. Jordan didn't trust the quiet; the killers had dogged their steps from the Reach to here, and now there was nothing. He didn't know what to make of it.

The overgrown path to Thirris's stretched ahead of them, and Jordan paused. How long would it be before he walked down here again? Blooms of varying colours now dappled the woodland floor; small white bells drooped into the path, and coils of pink trumpets decorated the creeping vines in the tree branches. Specks of yellow dotted the shady spaces under low-growing bushes. The undergrowth crashed and rustled as a deer leaped deeper into the trees, alarm cries echoing. Yddris hadn't waited for him, but Jordan didn't rush to catch up.

Astra and Henrik were already waiting at Thirris's, and Koen was due to arrive any time. Jordan stepped out onto the veranda and was immediately assailed by the rich smell of cooking meat that set his stomach growling. He stared in faint disbelief at the size of the carcass spitted over the fire that Thirris had started in his yard.

"Who caught that?" he asked. "Did someone steal it off a demon?"

"I did. Catch it, I mean. Not steal it off a demon. I'm not that cracked," Henrik said, sounding pleased by Jordan's amazement. He leaned back in his chair with a blackweed cigarette. Jordan's skin itched all over as the smell of it cut through the sizzling meat and reawakened the cravings he'd managed to largely ignore over the day. He had finally run out of leaf and wasn't brave enough to ask Yddris to give him any. He wanted to shake it before Nika found out he'd ever touched the stuff, he just wished the process didn't come with pounding morning headaches and regular bouts of sweaty trembling. He had a feeling Yddris had avoided smoking his pipe around him since he ran out, which left Jordan wondering just how well-attuned his tutor was to him, despite his assurances of privacy.

"We have a few more people coming," Thirris said. He appeared from around the corner of the cabin with three large loaves of dark bread under one arm and a keg under the other. "Hap and Koen, of course. Rook wouldn't be left behind. Nadiya is coming. I believe Cara may make an appearance, and Yerrit if his knees aren't too bad today."

"Yerrit?" Jordan repeated anxiously, thinking of the steep path up to the plateau where the Unspoken lived, and then the shambling state of the man himself.

"He doesn't come down often," Thirris said. "He must like you very much to even consider it."

"But why...?"

"You don't think you're just skipping off into the horizon without a farewell dinner, do you?" The old Unspoken laughed. "I expect we won't see each other for a long while after this and apparently your timetable is booked out tomorrow, so I sent Henrik to catch us something special."

The Unspoken busied himself at a trestle table sitting at the edge of the yard, leaving Jordan gaping and oddly choked up.

"I'm...going to freshen up," he muttered to Yddris, "before the others get here."

"Good idea. You stink."

"Thanks a bunch."

"Honesty is a virtue, boy."

"I thought that was patience."

"Oh, fuck off and go wash."

Grinning, Jordan went back into the house. Ren greeted him with a chirrup, clambered off his pillow where she'd been sleeping and stretched out. A bowl of still-warm water with a soft cloth floating in it already sat on his desk among his haphazard scattering of journals, inks and loose paper, probably also Thirris's work. Jordan closed his bedroom door and sat in the chair, vision blurring suddenly. He wiped angrily at his eyes with his sleeves.

He washed his face and hands, then his chest and armpits free of sweat, then ran damp fingers through his hair. He would take a dip in the river before they left the day after tomorrow. Ren jumped onto the table while he washed and watched with her tail curled around her feet, but soon grew bored and started trying to catch his splashes of water. Out in the hall he heard Koen arrive, and then Nadiya and Hap. In the faint light leaking through the window, the marks of his magic looked burn-dark against his skin. His chest, his torso, his upper back and one thigh were covered; some marks had even encroached on his face, reaching up one cheek towards his lips. And then there was the worst of them, darker than all the others, of which he could only see the very edge if he craned his neck – the Devil tattoo. Marked and claimed, by Nictaven and the assassins' guild both. He knew which he was more willing to offer his efforts to.

Something about that resolution gave him the will to dress again and re-join the party outside. The Unspoken would never ask more of him than he was capable of giving, and if he had to give to something to someone, he may as well give it willingly to the ones who had helped him most.

"Thorne." Cara nodded from the seat she had claimed beside Henrik; Jordan hadn't heard her arrive.

"Thorne!" Koen collided with him side-on, pitching them both to the decking. Laughing, Jordan broke his fall as Yddris had taught him and Koen rolled off before his full weight crushed him.

"Koen," Hap sighed in familiar exasperation. His former apprentice ignored him.

"When I join you in the Reach, I'm taking you on a light-season pub crawl, and then we will make menaces of ourselves at the Fayre," the Unspoken said, completely serious.

"I'll hold you to it," Jordan returned, grinning. He didn't allow his doubts that he would have the time or energy for something like that by then to cloud his thoughts.

"Stay sober enough to watch and remember when your tutor inevitably disgraces himself," Henrik added. "Even Nika lets loose at the Fayre."

Jordan couldn't picture it. Nika was always studious, careful and reserved; it seemed impossible for the man to do anything that could be construed as 'loose'.

"I fervently hope that all of these plans will be possible," Cara said. Both Yddris and Jordan tensed at the reminder of what awaited them in the Reach; Jordan had a feeling that the news had not yet ranged far through the Guild, but this wasn't the evening to discuss it. He got up off the decking and went to help Thirris carry more food and drink from the supply he'd built up in the cellar, resolving not to think about it before he had to.

His knives weighed heavy against his hip.