Ninety: Strange Developments

"I thought we could do with a chat."

"Did you."

Arlen didn't think so. The last place he wanted to be was in the alley outside of Yddris's house, aching all over, after having slept the sum total of a single hour the previous night. The only reason he had come was because Yddris hadn't told him to come alone, and because it was about Calder.

One thing he could say in the witch man's favour was that he didn't beat around the bush.

"I want you to tell me what that Angel did to him."

Arlen frowned. He readjusted his grip on his stick and said, lightly, neutrally, "He hasn't told you?"

"He's barely been awake," Yddris growled. "Nika has to keep sedating him for nightmares. When he is awake, he shakes and won't look anyone in the eye." A pause, and a short, sharp sigh. "Please. If you know something that might give us some clue on how to help, I'd appreciate it."

Arlen blinked, very slowly. Of course he was concerned about Calder. Something about Yddris's tone almost implied that the Unspoken thought he didn't give a shit. He did. He just knew that when it came to Angels, a lot of the 'help' from people who had never experienced it did as much good as a fireguard made of butter. "Don't know exactly. He said something about mind magic. He had a seizure, then puked and pissed on himself. Then he passed out for a solid hour. I'm guessing torture."

He related the symptoms dispassionately, dismissing all his own resurrected nightmares that had revisited him last night, phantoms from his past that didn't even fade in daylight.

"Why didn't you bring him to me straight away?" Yddris asked hoarsely. "Kiel's teeth, man, you just sent me a runner to say he'd already been moved!"

"Because he didn't want to go back," Arlen retorted, enjoying Yddris's flinch. Oh, the Unspoken hated that. He could tell without any freaky sixth sense. "He specifically asked not to. Mostly for the sister, I would bet."

"That would track." The Unspoken nodded. "Fuck. He was on a knife edge already."

"I hope you didn't bring me here to pin that on me."

"The one I want to pin it on is dead," Yddris said gruffly. Almost convulsively he produced a pipe and began stuffing it. "I brought you here for a warning. And a favour."

"Oh, this'll be fucking good. Go on then. Shock me."

"Not that kind of warning, though I've got a lot I'd like to say on that," Yddris replied. "It was a ballsy move, showing up to the castle like that. Don't assume Harkenn hasn't taken good note of you. And don't assume that killing Cael erases your arrest warrant. It hasn't."

"Sometimes I wonder if you think I'm an idiot."

"Far from it." Yddris blew out a long stream of smoke. "If I thought you were an idiot, I wouldn't be nearly so nervous about entrusting my apprentice to you."

Arlen smirked. "Tell me, then, witch man, if I make you so nervous. Why haven't you had me arrested?"

"Because I'm not an idiot," the Unspoken growled. "You being locked up doesn't make him safe."

"No one's ever safe," Arlen drawled. "Okay. Warning noted. What's this favour?"

"I know you hate the Caelumese. I suspect there's a damn good reason for it." It was a good job his pause was only brief, because Arlen was on the verge of stabbing him for the nerve. "Whatever...help you can give him... And I want him to be able to fight outside of the rules. I can teach him a lot of things, but I can't give him a survival instinct. The...the guts to do real damage, if it'll save his life. If we're heading for a war he'll need it. I can't approve it in my position, but if it came from you..."

"You want me to do the dirty bits you can't get your very official fingerprints all over. Sure." Arlen cocked his head, and couldn't help an incredulous grin. "What in Nict's name did you think I've been trying to do all these months? He's too nice. It takes some doing. And I don't need to be doing it because you asked me to."

To his surprise, Yddris conceded, raising a hand in surrender. Unerringly he glanced up at the roof where Arlen had told Usk to hide.

"Can we at least agree on the schedule?"

Arlen snorted. "I can't believe this."

"I know things about you, Blackheart, that you don't know I know," Yddris said in a low voice. "I could be leveraging them right now. I'm not. This is my one reasonable request, and I'm only going to be nice about it this once. I don't like you. If my apprentice's life wasn't in your hands, you would be in Harkenn's jail block right now."

Arlen tried to keep his face neutral, even as his guts knotted and his heart beat faster. He didn't think Yddris was bluffing – he liked to think he could almost always tell when he was being lied to. But what did he know? And how had he found it out?

If the witch man realised he had essentially blackmailed him without having to leverage any specifics, it did not tell in his voice when he next spoke. "I propose alternating nights as default. The boy can let us know if one or the other needs more than one night in a row."

"I'll want some daytimes," Arlen replied. "It's the light season. It's our busiest. Far as I'm aware, it's your quietest."

"He's got a lot to catch up on. If you have him for the full night and day he gets the next off."

Arlen hated it. How was he supposed to plan like this when so much of his work was spontaneous and dependent on the best opportunities? He also could recognise when he wasn't going to get a better deal, and no matter how much he disliked it he would always have to compromise with the witch man. He couldn't just remove Calder from that kind of training, more was the pity.

"His off time can be spent wherever he pleases," Arlen countered. "And you're not going to make it difficult if he wants to spend it with us."

"...Us?"

Arlen gestured. Usk clambered down from his rooftop hiding spot and Akiva slunk into view on the fence of another property, jaunty grin already in place. "The lads like him. Would be dreadfully remiss of me not to allow them some social."

Yddris's unease was almost tangible, but that was a fair price for introducing threats into the bargaining.

"Fine."

"Good. I think we have a deal."

He felt Yddris's eyes on him as he walked away. Akiva and Usk shadowed him from higher vantage points, just to ensure that it hadn't been a setup after all. Arlen couldn't help but be jumpy after the Caelumese attack.

His lip curled of its own volition at that memory. He was mostly pissed at himself for letting the Angel get under his skin, to the point where his own apprentice had to save him from an assassin he hadn't seen. Annoyed as he was with his own stupid weakness, he couldn't help a little glow of satisfaction at that. He bet it made Yddris squirm that Calder had left the battle to help Arlen – that just wouldn't have happened if the boy hadn't felt some loyalty to him. There was a chance to make a Devil of him yet.

"You think he has cracked?" Akiva asked, dropping back down to street level when they were well out of the posh streets known as the Fingers, where the witch man lived. "That didn't sound good, Arl, I have to say it."

"No," Arlen said. "If he didn't have more in him than that I wouldn't be wasting my time with him." When Akiva looked sceptical, he added, "I don't think he'll be unaffected. Badly affected, probably. But cracked is a few steps on from that."

Akiva still didn't look entirely convinced, but Arlen didn't want to argue about it. The truth was, he had no idea how Calder would be affected. He'd never taught an otherworld kid before, and he couldn't get away from the fact that he'd needed months away from the city to avoid a breakdown. It could go two ways. There was no way to know which until it happened – it would either create that grit the boy needed, or he wouldn't recover at all. Arlen didn't even want to entertain the second one as a possibility. He was convincing himself as much as Akiva.

Ashe joined them not long after they reached the quieter end of the merchants' quarter. "Marick's asking after you," she said without preamble. Arlen stifled a groan. "Arl, he's going to come looking for you before long."

"I haven't found another place yet," he muttered. He glanced at Usk, who immediately slipped away to retrieve the wagon. He wasn't going all the way back on foot.

"Just find one before he finds Darin's," Ashe replied.

"Next time I want a detailed plan of action with contingencies, I'll come to you."

She winked at him. "It's what I'm here for."

Arlen rolled his eyes. His day was slowly filling with meetings he didn't want to have, and of course it was on a night of almost no sleep. He fully expected a disciplinary, and couldn't have been less in the mood for it. With Gelert dead, he didn't know where he stood in the ranks, and that was almost worse than knowing his position was under threat. They couldn't go back to normal now, after Marick had shown so little faith in him. But what happened instead?

He comforted himself that if Marick had discovered his part in the Caelumese plan's failure, he would be dead already. He wouldn't have been allowed to live this long if Marick knew. All the same, as the wagon stopped outside the beer hall, Arlen's heart was thundering.

There was no guild meeting, so the beer hall was nearly deserted, only a few stragglers hanging around near the bar. Usk joined them, taking a position in view of the door to Marick's office. They had not spoken on the ride over. There hadn't been any need to; they were both thinking the same thing. Arlen was more aware than ever of the loudness of his approach as he stopped outside the closed door. Nevertheless, Marick allowed him the dignity of knocking, even if the guild master probably knew he'd arrived the second he'd got out of the wagon.

"Enter."

The office was illuminated by several flickering candles around the place. Marick, uncharacteristically, was seated. He gestured at the chair on the opposite side of the desk and Arlen took it.

They hadn't spoken like this in weeks, in this room, alone. After their years together, it seemed a miracle that it now felt strange to Arlen to be here on his own with the leader he'd helped rise to power.

"Your usual abode seems deserted," Marick said, not quite making it a question. As such, Arlen was not quite obliged to answer.

"Shadelings," he said instead. He didn't break his gaze or change his expression. "The bastards have the floor out from under you if you're not paying attention."

"But you do pay attention."

"I always notice these things."

Marick sat back, crossing his arms. "So the portal took you to the castle grounds."

Arlen grimaced. If he ever went through a portal again in his life it would be too soon. He'd gained a healthy perspective on what it might have been like for Calder, and he hadn't fallen out of the fucking sky. "Yes."

"And Calder came to your assistance?"

"He did."

Unexpectedly, Marick smiled. "I have to admit, Arlen, I had my doubts about you ever winning him over. But here we are. Are you pleased?"

Not about hearing it from you. Arlen cleared his throat. "I am, yes."

His employer canted his head slowly to one side. "I suppose you think I've been chronically underestimating you for a long time."

Arlen said nothing. There was nothing he could say to that that wouldn't come out sounding borderline treasonous.

"I brought you here to apologise."

Despite his best efforts, Arlen couldn't stop himself looking sceptical. He'd heard Marick genuinely apologise once before, just before he cut the head off his predecessor. Every other time, it had been ironic, untruthful, or downright mocking. As such, Arlen would have been a fucking moron to trust it.

"You don't believe me. You don't need to. It was a poor judgement on my part to trust Cael or Gelert, and now I'm reaping the consequences for that." Marick's voice turned bitter. "I plan to shake things up here. I want us more...cohesive. You have some sway in this guild, and not just in your group. Can I count on you for this?"

Arlen made a show of thinking about it. He didn't trust it, not for a moment, but he also saw with sudden clarity how vulnerable Marick was. His two allies were dead, had been untrustworthy from the start. Some of the guild would be deeply unhappy that the Caelumese had been involved, and that there had been discussions without the traditional procedure. There were very few rules a group like the Devils cleaved to, but tradition in their own ranks was important. Without them it would become a bloodbath in no time.

So Marick had come crawling back to Arlen, the second-rank he had set aside. The one who had killed Cael and made the fact public so Marick couldn't take credit for it.

He wondered if Marick knew what an opportunity he was opening for Arlen.

"Sure," he said, and because he didn't want to sound like he had given in too easily, he added, "with a condition."

Marick quirked an eyebrow by way of invitation.

"My apprentice is my business," Arlen said. "You didn't consult me on the tattoo. If you want me to teach him, you can't undermine me like that."

"The tattoo was an insurance measure before he left the city."

"The tattoo is supposed to be a mark of faith between teacher and apprentice," Arlen said. "It was my choice to make. It's how we've always done it. He blamed me for that and now he resents it. The threats to his sister were more than enough to keep him with me." He met Marick's eyes. "I don't think it was about the boy at all."

It was a gamble. He didn't know how Marick would take such a thinly disguised accusation, but he had to know, moving forward, whether he needed to take steps to keep Calder to himself. There were traditions and rites of passage that Marick had no right to take from him.

"I wanted to see if you'd defy me," Marick said, after a long pause. Arlen blinked.

"There were less offensive ways to do that."

Marick chuckled, and like that it was almost – almost – like it had been before all of this started. Before everything began falling apart. For a moment, Arlen mourned it. Then he hardened himself to the truth.

"I think we can compromise, Arlen," Marick said. "The boy is still a Devil, first and foremost, and his contract is with me. If I ask him to perform a task, he is just as obliged to do so as if you had given him one. However, I am prepared to meet in the middle, and consult you on my decisions for him. Does that sound fair to you?"

It didn't, but mostly because he hated it. Marick was still the guild leader, and was completely correct in what he had said. Arlen had no right to override his decisions for Calder, not until he made his move to take the chair. He quickly squashed that thought before it showed on his face.

"I could live with that."

"Excellent." Marick smiled again, and if Arlen hadn't been so wary already he might have been fooled into thinking that his employer really thought that fixed everything between them. Arlen knew it didn't. Marick certainly knew. But they could both play their roles – they were professionals, after all.

"In that case, I should inform you that he is the man I've assigned to dispose of the Orthanian brat."

"He's what."

"I'm surprised he didn't say so."

"Last time I saw him, Cael had scrambled his brains like a pan of fucking eggs. Sir, he's not ready."

"I think he is." Marick shrugged. "After all, Silas has inconvenienced him more than anyone. Aside from you, perhaps. I would've thought you'd be pleased."

"Then let me do it," Arlen said. He was not dealing with a repeat of Silas, the first kill he'd been assigned. He was pretty certain the kid hadn't been right since; it was probably the cause of half his problems. "He couldn't steal a dark-damned kettle from an unguarded house by himself yet."

"I don't see how that's a failing of mine, Arlen. Make him ready. And then make sure he does it. I haven't given him a deadline, but I don't expect to still have that brat whining at my office door by the time the dark falls again."

He wasn't going to win this one. He wasn't even going to try. Pushing back too hard would raise Marick's suspicions, and now he wasn't busy with other plans, now he'd come back, Arlen would have to be far more careful in his operations. His stomach sank like he'd tied a brick to it. Ashe was right – he had to get out of Darin's place before Marick worked out who he was.

Darin, when confronted the minute he got back, was unsympathetic to the danger.

"And where exactly are you going to sleep in the meantime, if you're dashing off into the dark this evening?" He ladled potatoes into a large bowl, chopped in several slivers of fresh butter, and began mashing them as if they'd done him some personal wrong.

Arlen exchanged a glance with Usk. "We have a wagon, for now," the Varthian suggested, crushed into a corner of Darin's one-room home and disconsolately shuffling through a pack of cards. Ashe watched him from a few feet away, sharp-eyed for cheating. "It would only a take a few nights to find somewhere to stay."

"You've got assassins after you, and your grand solution is to spend a few nights in an open wagon, have I got that clear?"

Arlen glared. Darin was always an obstinate shit, but this was embarrassing.

"It suddenly bothers you where I spend my nights? Since bloody when?" He glanced at the stash of pilfered food in the corner. It was much easier to get their hands on the pick of fresh supplies coming up from the south from Darin's place on the edge of the merchants' quarter. "I'll send you a cut of the food if it'll get your beak out of my business."

"I hate you," Darin said. He slammed the spoon down. Potato flew across the floor in all directions. "You know that, don't you? I fucking hate you."

"Had an idea," Arlen snarled. "Well, that's perfect, then, isn't it? I'll get out of your hair. What's the damn problem?"

"Because it doesn't matter how long it's been, it doesn't matter what I say, you keep trying to leave me behind, Arlen." Darin spoke as if Arlen hadn't said anything. "You're all I've got left. All those years after ma lost her sense, you were all I had. No one at work knew about her, except my employer. The neighbours helped because they pitied me, and because if there was no one there she started screaming the walls down. Only you, Arlen. You were the only person I talked to where I didn't have to lie through my teeth the whole time. You know how...how miserable that is? How degrading, that the only person you could ever remotely call something like a friend is your murdering, criminal, disowned brother who wants nothing do with you? And you don't even do it properly! You don't even see it! You leave me out in the fucking cold and then come back here looking all worried that your employer might find out about me? Why didn't you leave, then? Why do you keep coming back?"

Arlen stared. He had nothing to say. No one had ever dared to... His thought trailed off again. And in front of Ashe and Usk, too. Couldn't have waited. Of course.

He didn't have an answer.

"I'll join your group," Darin said. "I've been thinking about it, ever since ma died. I made a decision when you brought your apprentice here. He's been a friend, you know. A genuine one. No strings attached. And it's been nice, having people about for once. So let me join you. Or stop screwing me over. Walk out of my door and don't come back. Not ever. Those are your choices."

"You think you can just..." Arlen spluttered to a stop. It would solve his problems, if he posed Darin to Marick as a new member. Marick would never have cause to look at past links. They were adoptive siblings – it wasn't like family resemblance would give them away.

As for what it would be like to have that reminder of his past around all the time...he grimaced inwardly. But Darin could be useful. He'd support Arlen's leadership bid. He got on well with his apprentice. And yet.

"You realise it involves doing all the things you've run me down for all these years," he drawled. Usk and Ashe were both watching him, and he couldn't seem anything other than completely collected – even if Darin's explosion felt like he'd whacked Arlen over the head with a mallet.

"I'm not an idiot, Arlen. When I say I've been considering it for months, I mean it."

"The lads need to vote on it."

"Got mine." Usk shrugged when Arlen scowled at him. "Would've suggested it myself if I hadn't thought he'd cut my nads off for it."

"Him?" Arlen asked, affronted. Usk laughed. Darin's face was poker straight.

"Him." Usk looked away again. "I have spoken my mind on these things before, Arl. I won't bore you with it again. But if you want that seat, you'll need as many people you can trust around you as you can manage."

Arlen glanced at Darin again. He'd returned to mashing potatoes, much more placidly, as if the outburst had never happened.

"Got mine," Ashe said. She didn't elaborate, but she was staring at Darin and biting her lower lip. A slow pink flush was rising up Darin's neck, even if his expression hadn't changed. If Arlen hadn't been more of a mind to sit on a rooftop and scream abuse at the sky, he might have laughed.

"Fine," he said. "Fine."

He sat back on the mattress, lay down with a groan, and turned to face the wall.

What the fuck did I just agree to.

It could be a disaster. Or it could be a turning point.

Either way, he was a professional. And he didn't take shit without retaliating.

He grinned.

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Regards,

Elinor (S E Harrison)