Seventy Five: Investigation

"You're getting faster." Koen stepped back and lowered his sparring stick. Jordan wiped sweat from his eyes and blew out a long breath.

"Stop buttering me up."

"No, seriously." Koen rolled his shoulders and set his stick against the wall. "A few months ago I didn't even get winded sparring with you. No offense." Jordan grunted. "Now I actually have to try."

Jordan stretched one arm and then the other as the cloud of smoke in the corner of the room parted and allowed Yddris into view. "He's right, boy. You are getting faster. And you're not as afraid to hit back."

Jordan knew where that came from. Being charged by a seven-foot Varthian and thrown around at least every other week was a fast way to learn how to move quickly and hold ground. He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced at the stringy sweatiness of it. "I desperately need a bath."

Koen shrugged. "I can't smell you from across the room yet, so you aren't doing too badly." He sauntered towards the door. Despite his words, he wasn't moving nearly as stiffly as Jordan was. "I'm going to see what Nika's left in the pot."

As his footsteps receded, Jordan shuffled to one side of the attic and sat down. In one corner of the room was a thin mattress, a pile of blankets and a stack of books, where Nova and his sister slept each night. At the other end was a desk where Nika worked half the morning on research for Harkenn's affliction – even more books populated that part of the room. They had just about had enough space left to spar in. Not that Jordan had been in any kind of mood to spar, exhausted as he was. Cael's attack had left him afraid to sleep, no matter how he rationalised to himself that the Angel couldn't do anything to him from this far away.

Even if he could convince himself of that on a given night, his stress only found another focus on Arlen's leadership bid. Marick had had almost nothing to do with Jordan, but he could well imagine that making a pact like that with the assassin hadn't featured in the guild leader's plans for him, and that was before they'd started actively working against his grander ideas. And thus, instead of taking him through torturous loops of what would happen if Cael got into his head, his mind provided him with all the scenarios that might follow if the Devil leader discovered that plot. Both left him staring at the ceiling in a cold sweat, so that not even Ren could calm him down.

"You've been avoiding Nika," Yddris said, sitting down beside him. Jordan blinked, shocked by the sudden accusation. "He's not stupid, boy, and he's not so busy that he hasn't noticed."

Jordan swallowed. Guilt flooded him. He hadn't done it in any kind of calculated fashion. He had simply found ways not to be alone in the room with the Unspoken for too long, knowing what Nika knew. He dreaded being questioned on it. And he dreaded even more that even if Yddris had missed it, Nika had noticed him outside their bedroom door that night at the inn. It wouldn't be the first time the Unspoken had sensed him somewhere he had no business being, and Jordan fervently hoped that that conversation would never need to happen.

"I haven't been avoiding him," he defended, "just...the conversations that might happen if we were alone. That's all."

"I think he's got the message that you don't want to talk about it."

Jordan's face heated. "I didn't mean it like that."

Yddris sighed out another stream of smoke. "I know that, boy. He knows that, too, I think. But I know more about all this than he does, and he knows that as well. He's under a lot of strain, just as much as strain as you or I. He's been charged with curing Harkenn, which is synonymous with preventing outright war. If he fails, the Pit breaks loose, and he's worrying about you more than he needs to be right now. He enjoys teaching you, boy. He would've taken you on if the time had been right. Don't shut him out completely."

"You don't talk to him about this stuff." He knew it was the wrong thing to say, but the sting of his shame forced it out anyway. And you're way more involved with him than I am, he would have also said, if he hadn't minded having his balls nailed to the floor.

Yddris only stiffened a little. "I'm not actively involved with them anymore. I could be helping you in any number of ways, as far as he is concerned, and I don't tell other people business that isn't mine to share."

"Not even that someone else is helping with the poisons? Well...'helping'."

"I've hinted at that. He was highly sceptical."

"That's just healthy when it comes to Arlen." Jordan frowned at his boots, and then stood up, abruptly ready for this conversation to be over. "I need that bath. And a smoke." He caught Yddris looking at him and sighed. "I'll make an effort, alright?"

He wiped his face with a rag as he descended the stairs. He heard Grace and Nova talking in the front room, Koen's voice joining in intermittently, as he ducked into his room to collect fresh clothes. It was strange having Koen back in the house, feeling his familiar aura from the wrong colour of cloak. Another change. He groaned as he stepped out of the back door into the cool air. It had turned decidedly less harsh recently, the light warmer and the days creeping on. After a quick but thorough check of the rooftops and the alley behind the back fence, Jordan pumped himself some wash water and stripped down, determined not to think of anything else at all.

The cold water was a bracing shock after the heated tubs provided for guests at the inn, but it didn't give Jordan time to brood. He scrubbed himself dry with a rag and grimaced at the stretch of magic-scars down one leg. Only most of his face, one leg and his forearms and hands were clear of any marks, and not only were they spreading but they were growing denser in the areas that already had them. Alongside the marks magic had left on him were a multitude of other scars; thin white lines on his fingers from practising blades, mottled white patches on his knees and knuckles from countless scrapes, a thick pink scar on one hand and another on his forearm. The skin between his neck and shoulder blade was taut and shiny with scar tissue after being attacked by a walking corpse.

He heard a noise behind the closed back door and quit indulging his self-pity, pulling on some trousers and turning to face the door as it swung open. Nika knew about the Devils, yes, but Jordan didn't want anyone to see the tattoo. He avoided looking at it.

"Well met, Thorne." The greeting was friendly, but after Yddris's words Jordan more easily read the resignation and tiredness in it, and felt again a wash of guilt. "I'm afraid I've got bad news. Harkenn's taken a significant turn for the worse and wishes to speak with you. Anarabelle and Yddris will be coming."

"Why does he want to talk to me?" Jordan asked. His stomach rolled unpleasantly.

"I think you can probably guess." Nika clasped his hands. "I don't suppose you have anything to offer him yet?"

Oh. His heart sank. Harkenn wanted updates on Arlen's progress. Since the break-in, Jordan hadn't heard from the assassin, though he knew that when he did have to go it would mean he was visiting the ominously-named Poisoner. It wasn't a trip he was rushing to make.

"Not yet."

Nika nodded, and his voice was glum as he said, "That makes both of us, then. I'm completely stymied without any samples, and I'm sure Cael is deliberately keeping them out of my way. That, or he's administered it in a way I haven't thought of, or used a poison I'm unfamiliar with. Neither option is all that encouraging. I already showed up in his study with bad news once this week."

Jordan swallowed, nodding as well. This wasn't going to be a pleasant meeting. "I, um...might have some leads. But nothing concrete. I may not have anything useful at all."

"Leads?" Nika cocked his head. "Where from?"

"A not-strictly-legal ransack of Cael's quarters."

"Ah." A measuring gaze watched him from the depths of the Unspoken's cowl. "Alone?"

"No. I had some not-strictly-legal assistance."

"I see." Nika's tone was completely neutral of judgement, but somehow that didn't help. Jordan sighed.

"When are we going?"

"How soon can you be ready?"

"Ah, shit. That kind of meeting."

Nika chuckled, but the sound was grim. "I'm afraid so. I'll leave you to it."

He turned and ducked back inside, shutting the door softly behind him. Jordan stared at it for a moment, feeling as though he should have said more, then shook himself out and finished dressing. He ran his fingers through his hair, and made a mental note to pick up a comb next time he was in the shopping district. For the time being, he slung it into a stubby ponytail with a leather thong and covered the whole mess with his hood. He picked Ren up on the way past his room, and immediately felt calmer as she settled against his neck. He had hoped he could see Arlen before Harkenn summoned him, but as he hadn't there was nothing for it but to endure the lord's displeasure.

Nova was waiting with Nika and Yddris when he arrived in the front room. To his surprise, it appeared as though Koen and Grace were in the middle of studying together; as he entered, his sister rose, brushing off the trousers she'd pilfered from him and smiling.

"I can't believe you stole my trousers," he grumbled, giving her a quick squeeze.

"I won't wear them out," she said. "But skirts are so fussy."

"Those look fussier," he pointed out, looking at the thick rolls at the bottom of each leg. "But whatever. I'll see you later."

"Have fun," she said, grimacing in sympathy. She moved past him and clasped Nova's hand, and for a moment they stood with their foreheads together. The Angel stiffened at first, then relaxed into it. When they parted, Nova's usually pale cheeks were flushed a delicate pink.

Jordan hung back for the whole trip to the castle, mostly to avoid conversation. The inexorable shift away from Unspoken had begun in the streets again, unbelievable considering the season they'd had – but Jordan couldn't muster the energy to be angry, or even to care all that much. He fussed Ren as he walked, distracting himself from the task ahead with her squeaks and chirrups and play-biting. The castle almost sneaked up on him, looming suddenly overhead. His head ached at the reminder of his last excursion here, and he drew closer to Nova, who glanced at him from beneath her hood with understanding in her dark eyes.

"He won't try it while I'm there." Her words were so soft he almost missed them in the bustle of the castle courtyard.

"Then I'm not coming back here without you," he muttered. She only smiled faintly.

They were let in immediately; Brillan met them at the door in his wheeled chair and gestured them straight through. Angel servants were more apparent in the foyer traffic than they had been before, several individuals with varying wing colours among the throng. By the staircase, one in particular caught his eye; Jeorge with his auburn hair and umber wing markings, and a dark glower on his face. Nova stiffened beside him, though it was hard to tell whether it was the Caelumese Angels or Jeorge who had got her back up.

"He wants to see Thorne first," Nerahardt said when they reached him. "Alone."

"We can wait," Nika said, after a surprised silence. Even Jordan was taken aback. He had expected, with the nature of his report, that he would probably get a meeting alone, but not before Nika or Nova. Jeorge nodded and gestured Jordan up the stairs. As he passed, the Angel leaned in and murmured, "I'll send Anarabelle up after you, to stand outside."

"Thank you," Jordan said, and it was heartfelt. He didn't want to risk being alone with a delirious lord and having Cael burst in at any moment accusing him of trespassing.

He climbed the staircase, leaving the others at the bottom, and with great effort of will forced himself not to look back even when he reached the top. The guards nodded a greeting as he reached the study door, and one knocked and stuck his head in to announce him.

"Send him in." The voice was thin and tremulous. When Jordan stepped inside, he found the study had been transformed, that the desk had been pushed to one side against the wall so that Harkenn could reach it without leaving the bed that had been moved into the room. The lord reclined on a mountain of thick pillows, and the gaze he turned on Jordan was dull but, thankfully, lucid. Cael was nowhere to be seen.

"My lord." Jordan bowed low, hoping Harkenn couldn't detect his shock.

"Cael has been screeching at me most relentlessly that you broke into his rooms a few days ago. Is that correct, Whisperer?"

Jordan hesitated. It drew a thin smile from Harkenn.

"Anarabelle is standing outside, boy, you don't have to fear being overheard." The smile faded. "Did you find anything?"

"We took samples." Jordan swallowed. "I haven't heard back about them. We also found a large coin with the crescent moon and dagger on it under his floorboards."

To Jordan's alarm, Harkenn appeared to struggle to remember what he meant by this. "The Kiel temple?"

"And the pendant Ren brought back to me the night of the siege."

With an effort, Harkenn pushed himself higher, a spark of interest lighting in his eyes. "He's got something to do with the attacks on Unspoken, then. Anarabelle," this he said louder, and a moment later Nova stepped inside the room. She had discarded her wool cloak and looked all the more vulnerable for it. She carried herself differently in Harkenn's presence. "Can Angels raise the dead?"

Nova's only indication of surprise was a slow blink, but over the last few days Jordan had come to learn that that meant she was very surprised indeed. "Once they could, back when they lived in their native world. To my knowledge that magic was lost when the planet died. And even before then it was heavily regulated and considered a crime in most circumstances."

"Lost or hidden?"

He sounded almost like himself again, but the effort of his vehemence caused Harkenn to sag into the pillows again.

"If it was hidden, my lord, it was well out of my sphere to know."

"No secret societies that you recall?"

"Plenty, my lord." Her brow furrowed. "But they weren't a secret from the throne, and again, to my knowledge none of them practiced necromancy."

Jordan shuddered. Harkenn looked disappointed. "Would that I had something better than a coin to accuse him. I can hardly prosecute based on a symbol no one knows the meaning of. So, Whisperer, you have nothing that I can use. Again. Is that what you're telling me?"

Jordan swallowed. He was sure the bitter resentment in Harkenn's eyes was not all meant for him, but it still made him feel tiny and useless. "My lord, I'm following every lead I've got."

Harkenn cocked his head. "You have more than one?"

Shit, the key. Jordan had no idea how Harkenn had guessed, but he could tell from the way the lord looked at him that he knew there was something he was omitting. The key weighed heavily in his inside pocket, and he felt Nova's gaze on the back of his head. "I have some ideas. Sir."

He'd never known a silence to stretch so long. He was on the verge of caving when Harkenn abruptly turned away.

"Perhaps you're wise not to tell me." He spoke quietly, but the desolation in the words was unmistakable – and this time, after Cael's attack on him, Jordan thought he could understand. He threw caution to the wind.

"If I needed to get into a part of the castle that you wouldn't normally allow..." he trailed off as Harkenn's stare zeroed in on him again. He ploughed on. "Would I have your provisional leave to do so, if I thought it would be of help?"

"You're getting good at dancing around your point, Whisperer," Harkenn said, with a hint of a smile. "Don't make it a habit with me." Another pause. "You must not enter my chambers without my express permission. I don't care how hot you think your trail is. I will tell Devon to assist you with anything else."

Jordan guessed Devon was the captain of the guard; a severe-looking but soft-spoken man in his middling years. Jordan quite liked him. "Thank you, my lord. I hope to have something more solid next time I report."

"I should think so, Whisperer, if you do not want to be reporting to Lucifer some day sooner than either of us would like."

He still had Harkenn's words circling each other around his brain like hungry dogs an hour later, as he waited outside the library for Nova to join him. Nika's meeting was taking longer, probably including a physical examination, and the longer he lingered the worse his anticipation grew. When Nova finally turned the corner, preceded by the light rattling of her chain, she was accompanied by the austere figure of the captain. The man nodded an acknowledgement that Jordan returned.

"You wanted to get into somewhere specific?"

Jordan nodded again. "Can you delay the guard change in the west courtyard for us?"

Devon's eyes narrowed, moving from his face to Nova's and probably not getting anything from either. His following frown was distinctly dissatisfied. "If Lord Harkenn hadn't expressly told me to allow it, I might call myself deeply suspicious. But yes, I will delay it."

"Thank you," Jordan said. Lying well was one thing Arlen had not managed to drill into him yet, and he had dreaded trying to skirt around the truth without breaking his word to Callan. As the captain strode off with one more suspicious glance at them both, he turned his gaze to Nova and found her already watching him.

"You know where it is?" he asked. "I've forgotten, honestly."

A faint smile turned up one corner of her mouth, but she led on without speaking. She had reclaimed her wool cloak and clutched it tightly around her shoulders, almost imperceptibly shivering. She sensed his gaze without turning. "I'm afraid it's quite easy to get used to being warm. Not so much the other way."

They made the rest of the journey in silence, though Jordan did draw alongside her and allow a flicker of magic to dance along his arms. Pulling on the current inside the unwarded walls of the castle felt not unlike trying to drink through a straw with no air in it, but the gratitude in her eyes was such that he would have felt cruel to put it out again.

The west courtyard was empty when they entered, as promised. Jordan had been in it once before, during his convalescence after Marick kidnapped him. He scanned the walls, but found only the archways that led back into the main castle corridors. Nova walked past him, heading straight for the only blank wall in the place, and he followed despite his reservations, gripping the key in one fist.

"About here," Nova said, stopping in front of a stretch of solid-looking grey stone. Jordan frowned. "The keyhole is...there. Just beneath that jutting brick."

He bent down. "Ah. That's weird, but we'll go with it."

As he turned the old key in the lock, something clunked into place deep inside the stone and a dark seam appeared in the shape of a doorway. He gave it a tentative nudge with one elbow and it swung in soundlessly, despite the gust of stale air that emerged indicating how old it was. He shuddered. It reminded him of the macabre collection in the Nict temple cellar, full of demon remains.

"Are you coming down with me?" he asked Nova, concentrating his magic into a lantern flame that rested in one palm. He darted a nervous glance at the yawning mouth of the stairs and prayed she said yes.

"I've got this far. I don't see why I should resist my curiosity now." She smiled, and he realised she would be able to see how desperate he was in his aura. Ren chirruped in his ear, sensing his nervousness and embarrassment, and the reminder of her presence calmed him.

"Right. Okay." He swallowed. "Let's go then."

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Regards,

Elinor (S E Harrison)