Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1

Twenty Three: A Deal

"You're not gonna like this."

Usk levered himself through the window with a thump that rattled the bottle of nettle wine Arlen had open on the table. Arlen glowered as he steadied it.

"What am I not going to like?"

"The boy's manifested," Usk said, "And Yddris has taken him on."

Arlen scowled. "How do you know?"

"Was in the area, saw them go past." The barbarian sat down in the vacant chair at the table and took a long swig of wine. "Boy's eyes were glowing like torches and they were heading to the witch man's place."

Arlen snatched the bottle back and took a long drink himself. It was just his luck; it had to be Yddris to take the boy, of all the dark-damned Unspoken out there.

"I heard a rumour that the kid's sister was there during the whole clusterfuck with Silas," Usk continued. His tone was pointed.

"You think Faellian threatened her and signed him on with Yddris?" Arlen asked. It was no big secret to anyone in castle politics that Harkenn had been scouting around for a replacement Unspoken ever since Yddris had put forward a date for his intended retirement. It was also no big secret that Harkenn was desperate for Yddris to teach his own successor.

"I think that's exactly what happened," Usk said. Arlen suddenly noticed that the brute stank. "From what you've said, the two are close. He wouldn't let her die if there was something he could do about it, and nothing else would have out-bargained Ethred."

"True." Arlen sighed. "Where've you been, anyway? You smell like a sewage pit."

"It may surprise you to learn that I've been in a sewage pit," Usk said, unfazed.

"What for?"

"My mark jumped into one trying to get away," Usk said. He picked something out of his teeth and flicked it away. "Stupid, really. Could've had a nice, dignified death on a blade and instead he forced me to drown him in shit."

Arlen snorted. "What a way to go."

Usk shrugged.

"Marick won't be happy about this," Arlen finally said. "I don't think he was expecting Silas to even stand trial. He can't pay off his debt if he's dead."

"There'll be a meeting called," Usk said, "You wait."

The signal came a few hours later. Through the haze of Usk's blackweed smoke, Arlen saw the flash of a saltpetre flare outside the window, coloured red with powdered bloodroot. Similar flares would be going off all over the quarter, calling in the Devils.

"There's the signal," Arlen said, snatching his travelling cloak off the back of his chair. Usk, hazy with blackweed, got ready at a more leisurely pace, only speeding up when Arlen kicked him in the shins. "Come on, you great lump."

"Your mother's a lump," Usk muttered, Varthian accent more pronounced in his grogginess. Arlen scowled.

"Your mother should have eaten you when you came out the womb."

"The tribes don't eat their own kids, you piece of shit."

He didn't wait for Usk to get into a rant; they didn't have time. He hooked himself out of the window onto the roof of the adjacent house, pulling his scarf over the lower half of his face as he did so. As he raced over the roofs, two more flares went off in different parts of the quarter.

He dropped to ground level only when he reached the beer hall. He was one of the first to arrive. Usk rounded the corner not long afterwards, argument clearly already forgotten. They entered together and took their usual seats near the front, with a good view of Marick's vacant chair on the dais. A stream of criminals made their way in after them, vanishing into the shadows as per their usual habit. The susurration of hushed conversation soon rose to a widespread hum.