Seventy One: Callan

There was nothing he could do about Usk shadowing him home, but Jordan still felt a flicker of annoyance as he entered the Nict temple courtyard. The Varthian went from a barely detectable presence to an impenetrable wall in front of him in two blinks.

"Does Arlen know you are doing this?" he demanded. Jordan couldn't hold his glare for long. He was too used to having the man throwing him about to put up too much resistance. He was very familiar with how strong Usk was.

"No," Jordan said. "I don't think so. Unless Callan told him."

"Callan requested it?" Usk's eyes narrowed. Jordan made himself meet his gaze again.

"Yes. He did. I don't come here unless someone's told me to."

The brute examined him for several disconcerting moments. Jordan had no idea how much of his face the Varthian could see in the rising light, but whatever he did see seemed to convince him that Jordan wasn't lying. "This is not anything against Arlen, then?"

"What?" Jordan blinked. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind. "No. I don't think so. Callan passed the message through Yddris, so I doubt it has anything to do with the Devils. But I won't know what it is until I get in there." He added as much emphasis as he dared to the last few words.

Usk shifted, but his jaw was set firm as he said, "I believe you, kid. But never forget that you swore your wholehearted commitment to him. He does not take betrayal lightly."

I bet he doesn't. He pressed forward across the courtyard as Usk stepped out of his way. He'd betrayed that particular promise before he'd even made it, especially if Harkenn survived this ordeal. He didn't even want to think what would happen if he didn't. Would Yddris or Arlen be able to protect him from Marick in Harkenn's absence, if their suspicions about his plans with Caelum were true? Even Arlen didn't know what the Devils' guildmaster wanted with him, but he doubted it would be pleasant.

He lost sight of Usk almost immediately. He entered the silent prayer hall and headed straight for the cells. He was not pleased to be back here within the week, especially considering the nature of the last visit. He was exhausted and hungry, and wrung out from the stress of the meeting. He just wanted to get back to Ren, and a soft bed, and some hot food. The Demon's Brew was much further away than Yddris's house, but he hoped to cadge a lift on a supply wagon as far as it would take him. There would be plenty of them at this time of day.

The Nict temple looked strange in daylight, though the light beaming across the floor still managed to look grey and musty as it filtered through cell windows. He knocked smartly twice on Callan's door, knowing the old man wouldn't be asleep. Sure enough, the priest was fully alert when he opened the door. It looked as though Jordan had caught him in the midst of a mound of paperwork.

"I'm arranging accommodations for some of the displaced residents of the House of Kiel," Callan said by way of greeting. He gestured Jordan inside and closed the door behind them. "Nict do not have many properties, but there are two boarding houses we own in Bisa, and I'm sure they will suit much better than anything I could find them here."

"I thought Nict and Kiel didn't get on," Jordan said without thinking, and shut his mouth as Callan laughed. It was a thin, papery sound.

"Political stances don't negate the value of charity." The priest offered a knowing smile. "It always pays to be generous to powerful neighbours."

The man shuffled his papers together and secreted them away in a drawer. There was so much clutter already in it that Jordan would count it a miracle if Callan ever unearthed them again. He forced himself to be patient as the priest hummed and hovered around his possessions. It was a very different picture to the deadly-serious manner with which Callan had always dealt with him when he was on errands for Arlen.

"You...Yddris told me you requested me to come." He couldn't help himself, as the priest was doing such a good job of appearing to have forgotten he was there. That was quickly dispelled in the sharpness of the man's return smile.

"I did request that, yes. I came across something the other day that I thought you might find interesting." The seemingly aimless hovering came to a stop. The priest reached to the back of a shelf groaning with books and paperweights and plucked out a brown envelope. It was slightly scrunched and secured with string. Before he handed it over, Callan gave him a very severe look over his glasses. "You did not come by this through me. Tell one or the other of your teachers if you wish – whoever you think would make best use of it. The fewer people who know, the less chance there is of retribution. That is best for both of us."

Jordan couldn't stop himself asking. "You trust Arlen as much as Yddris?"

Callan laughed again, and this time the sound was more genuine. "Of course not. But neither of them are stupid, both are skilled, and both have enough wit to keep a secret extremely well."

Jordan knew that very well, and the reminder made him fidget. Now he'd have to go back to Yddris and Nika and pretend he hadn't heard them together, even though both Unspoken could read him like a dark-damned book. He pushed those thoughts away.

"But you know them both better than I do." He didn't enjoy the idea of choosing between the two. He felt through the paper to try and guess what it was he was holding. It felt like a door key. "Whose is this?"

"It is a key found in what I believe to be a Caelumese hideout in the city." Callan turned away, and his voice dropped to a murmur. "Or a meeting room of some description. It looks very much to me like a castle key, and Harkenn has complained of a theft in recent months. I cannot promise it will be helpful in your current investigations, but I hope it aids something."

Jordan frowned. "Why are you giving this to me and not Harkenn? And why are you even suggesting the possibility that I give it to Arlen, if it's in the castle?"

"Because, boy, there are forces that even I fear, and you stand a much better chance of putting that to good use than I do. What use would it do me to give it to Harkenn with the state he is in?" Callan smiled again. "And of course, I have a reputation to uphold. As for your second question, well...there are some choices a man must make for himself. Balanced between them as you are, it would be beneficial for you to learn how to take back some control for yourself. Think about your position. You seem to think that everyone has you over a barrel. But consider; Yddris's position is as powerful a post as any Unspoken can get, arguably including your Guildmaster. You will have Harkenn's ear, and the skills taught you by one of the most proficient Unspoken seen for an age. On top of that, you are in on the Devils' plans because of your link to the second rank...a man who could become first in future, if he played his cards well. Marick himself has specified you for training, despite all of the security risks you pose. To him, you are worth that risk." The priest paused. "Yes, they have very effective blackmail over you. Clearly. But your choices affect both sides from the highest levels. If you are not acutely aware of how many cards you hold yourself, my lad, you need to start counting them. And using them. Playing by other people's rules will only get you so far."

Jordan stared, mouth agape. He had never heard the priest speak at such length, and never would he have suspected he'd spend the early hours receiving life coaching from a death priest, who had spent all the other visits trying to give him the shudders – and mostly succeeding.

It occurred to him, belatedly, that Callan hadn't once mentioned giving the key to Marick.

"You don't want a deal with Caelum," he murmured. Callan's pale gaze warned him to say no more, and he took the hint. The priest took his seat again, finding it unerringly in the jumble.

"Thank you," Jordan said, taking that to mean that he had been dismissed. He wasn't sure whether he was thanking the priest for the key or the advice. The key was currently posing more questions than it solved, but he had never considered his situation from those angles. It was probably not a stance that anyone with a stake in his choices would appreciate – apart from Yddris, perhaps – but remarkably, he felt marginally less useless already.

By the time he reached the temple door he knew who he was going to tell and what he was going to say. And he knew that he was going to keep hold of the key himself.

Usk didn't talk to him when he emerged, which he was grateful for. He wasn't sure what he could have said that wouldn't have raised the Varthian's suspicions. While Jordan believed that, in his own strangely violent way, the brute liked him, he also knew that his loyalty to Arlen trumped all else. Jordan wouldn't make it far if Usk genuinely believed he posed a threat.

He found an inn's supply wagon to take him as far as the bridge across the river to the Demon's Brew. The city air stank of smoke from the burning temple, churning Jordan's gut with guilt. Had Arlen really sent Jesper to flood the corridors, or had he just said that to keep Jordan on side? How much difference would it really have made even if he had? There was no use thinking about it, really, except to torture himself with it. The assassin would never admit it if he had lied, and whatever difference it did or didn't make was over now. His mood was decidedly dark when he reached the other side of the bridge and entered the inn through the courtyard door. He hadn't expected to find Yddris or Nika here – so he was surprised when he saw Yddris sitting at the bar alone. There was no one else in the taproom, and it didn't look as if the inn had been opened to customers that day.

"Where is everyone?" Jordan asked, when the Unspoken didn't say anything. He took the stool beside his tutor, and wasn't encouraged to find him sipping whisky out of a pint glass.

"Nika has gone to help with the temple fire," Yddris replied, after a pause. He swirled the liquid in his glass and watched it spin. "He has taken your sister with him, in disguise, of course. She went in Kedrick's wagon to help in the triage centre with Laurel and Killian. I stayed here to keep an eye on Anarabelle. Someone needed to. She's too much of a risk and Harkenn would flay me alive if he found out she was left unattended. If he came to his senses and found out." The amendment was bitter. "What kept you out so long tonight?"

"A meeting," Jordan said. He shuddered. "Two meetings. I went to see Callan. Technically it's seventhday, figured I might as well stop there while I was nearby anyway." He shook his head. "I never know what to make of him."

"Was it of interest, this thing he showed you?"

Jordan glanced sidelong at the Unspoken, who still hadn't looked up from his booze. "Potentially. Did you say Harkenn was missing a key?"

That gained him a glance. "Aye. Well, Jan told me. Key was discovered missing not long after we left. Nova had found a duplicate in the remains of one of those walking corpses, and the original was gone."

"Do you know what the key was for?"

"No. And I wasn't in a position to ask, surrounded by Caelumese. Nova may know. Whether she'll tell you is a different matter."

"Is she in the middle of something now?"

"Far as I know, only thing she's doing is waiting for Grace to get back."

Jordan got up. There wasn't much use in straining the conversation while his tutor was drinking, and it didn't appear that Yddris was feeling talkative or in the right frame of mind to be very helpful. Before he'd taken a single step, however, his tutor's hand grasped his wrist.

"Sit, boy. I need to talk to you about something."

Here it comes. Jordan sat, heart sinking. There were some conversations he was happy never to have with Yddris, and the one he knew was coming was one of them. He sank back onto a stool.

"Nika thinks I'm failing you," Yddris began, and Jordan stiffened in surprise. "He doesn't believe I ask enough questions about what you're doing every night, doesn't think I put my foot down hard enough over when you go out and how often."

A silence stretched between them. It was not the direction Jordan had expected Yddris to take, and he couldn't help but feel relieved. If Yddris expected him to answer some unspoken question, he had no idea how. When the quiet stretched so taut he almost said something just to break it, Yddris spoke again.

"I want you to be honest with me, boy. Do you feel the same way? Are you expecting me to do more?" His tutor swallowed, and then drank again. "If you feel like I've thrown you to the demons, I'd like you to tell me."

He thought for a long moment – somehow he didn't think anything quick or conciliatory would wash, with the mood the Unspoken was in. The truth was that at many points he had felt as though Yddris had left him to it, with his refusal to discuss his own experiences with the Devils. That, and how much it interfered with his Unspoken training; Arlen acted as though he was Jordan's only teacher and scheduled accordingly. He hadn't expected much better from the assassin, but he still had to balance both and somehow get sleep in between times.

"What...does Nika think you can do about it?" Jordan began falteringly. "Not being funny, but I'm not seeing many opportunities for putting your foot down."

"Well." Yddris leaned back in the seat and stretched until his back cracked. He grunted. "If you were to be out on training with me at times Arlen would normally demand your presence, I suppose it's one way. I'd have to negotiate hours with Harkenn. Not often enough to cause problems on that end, but enough to give you a break." He paused. "Or I could have a word with Blackheart myself."

Jordan blanched. "Eh?"

Yddris glanced at him, and Jordan was sure he smirked. "I could handle him before his injury, I can handle him now."

"But he takes Usk everywhere with him. Can you handle both of them?"

"I've had plenty of dealings with the Varthian. They're helping us with Harkenn, boy, however they're framing it for themselves. Sooner or later we'll come face to face. We'll have to. And I don't think even Blackheart can argue that it's in everyone's best interests for your Unspoken training to continue at a good pace. I'm sure we could come to an agreement."

Jordan wasn't sure he wanted that meeting ever to happen. The two men had never disguised their dislike for each other, and Jordan was the one who would have to deal with the results of this 'agreement'. If it wasn't done the right way, he could easily see Arlen making the whole thing his fault.

"I don't expect it," he said. "And I don't think Nika would make such a thing of it if you told him..."

"Out of the question." Yddris's voice turned suddenly harsh. "If things hadn't played out the way they had, you'd have no better idea of it than he does. Even if I wasn't ashamed to my dark-damned core of it, do you think I could look him in the eye and tell him I kept that to myself for thirteen years?"

In the light of his accidental discovery of the evening before, Jordan thought he could understand – not that he could say that. He sighed. That his tutor had so vehemently asserted his shame had stung a little, considering Jordan was still in the thick of it. "Maybe he only pushes it because he has no idea. I'm going to have to learn how to handle Arlen at some point. I don't think it would gain me much in his eyes if you intervened on my behalf."

"Being brave for the sake of it only gets you so far, boy," Yddris murmured. "Don't put your life in danger for the sake of the esteem of a man like that. I bet he talks nice now, but you push him too far and he gets dangerous quickly. I...I knew him when he was younger. He runs on fear and grudges, little else. You don't need his esteem, boy. You need to get to graduation without anything terrible befalling you first." He sighed. "If I had thought for one moment that he'd put you in the crossfire between him and his employer, I wouldn't have caved so easily."

Jordan listened, rapt. Yddris had never spoken of how he knew Arlen. It didn't look as though anything more was forthcoming, however. Yddris seemed to sink into contemplation of his whisky, and Jordan got up, feeling as though they hadn't reached a conclusion about anything much at all. When Yddris didn't call him to sit back down, he crossed the room to inn stairs and climbed. He felt oddly shaken by the conversation. He had thought that he wanted Yddris to be candid with him, but hadn't realised how much he valued the time he had separate from the Devils, where he didn't have to think about them at all. He also had no desire whatsoever to get between Yddris and Nika's disagreement about him, especially knowing what he knew. He didn't want to be a reason for them to fall out again.

Nova sat on the window ledge in the room she shared with Grace, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a candle by her feet. She sat perfectly still, but in the reflection in the glass he saw her eyes flick to him as he entered. Huddled there, she seemed suddenly very small; but her gaze, when she turned it on him, lent some credence to the common assertion that she was not what she seemed. Her presence always made him uneasy. He told himself that he was happy as long as Grace was happy, but had never been able to shake the wish that she had fallen for someone safer.

"Do you have a moment to talk?" he asked. He didn't think he imagined the flicker of uneasiness on her face.

"Time is one thing I have plenty of," she replied. She watched him warily as he closed the door and perched on the end of the bed. After a moment of hesitation, he pulled the key from his inner pocket, taking it out of its wrappings and presenting it to her. It was a thick iron key, inlaid with patterns, and his suspicions proved sound when her eyes widened in surprise. Time to see if his gamble paid off.

"Do you know what this opens?" he asked.

She looked at the key. Her lips thinned. "I know where the door is. I couldn't tell you what's inside. I never went in."

"Where's the door?"

"The castle courtyard which sits below the west turret. In the wall that looks blank."

Jordan knew the courtyard. Yddris had once met him for a lesson there, not long after Marick had had Jordan kidnapped and threatened him in a riverside warehouse. It seemed like such a long time ago.

"Where did you find it?" Nova asked.

"I was given it," Jordan said. He had already broken one of Callan's rules, but that one he was not going to mess with. "By someone who had reason to believe that the Caelumese had it."

"Put it away," Nova said immediately. "Does anyone else know you have it?"

"No. I think Yddris was too far gone to make the connection." Even so, he hastily replaced it.

She nodded. "He had a fight with Nika before he left. I suspect that's what did it."

Jordan suppressed a groan. "It wasn't about me, was it?"

Her eyes glimmered with faint amusement. "I don't know. But if you think you warranted one, then it's possible."

"I don't warrant one," he grumbled. "It still seems to happen. Do you have any ideas about what was in the room?"

"Harkenn said it was very old history," Nova replied. "And I wasn't in a position to ask questions. It's possible it is a vault of some kind. Perhaps an old tomb. The Harkenns were not the first rulers of Nictaven, and I believe the castle was built with rubble from the stronghold of those they took it from. He didn't seem overly concerned that someone had been able to steal from it, only that someone had been inside. Make whatever you want of that. I'm sure Grace could get you into the library if you needed it."

"I'm not taking her back up there," Jordan said. "Not until the Caelumese are gone."

Nova shrugged, but Jordan thought he detected approval.

"Thank you," he added, when it didn't look as though she planned to add more to the conversation.

"What are you planning?" she asked. Her bluntness surprised him into answering.

"Crime," he said with a dark chuckle, "in the service of the law." He paused, swallowed. "And I might need your help with it."

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Regards,

Elinor (S E Harrison)