Forty One: The Whispering Wall

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"The moons didn't rise last night."

Jordan looked over at the window, where Nika stood with his hands clasped in front of him. He hadn't even realised it wasn't night anymore; the world outside was dark.

"What does that mean?" he muttered, "Something bad, I'm guessing."

"The dark season is here." Nika turned from the window and came to the bed. "How are you getting on?"

"Very badly." Jordan looked down at the tablet in his hand. It didn't look like he'd written his name. It didn't look like anything, really.

"It's not bad," Nika said.

Jordan looked at his handiwork and then back at the Unspoken, dubious. "Nictavian doesn't make any sense."

"It makes a lot of sense," Nika replied, "Once you know the patterns."

"What I don't understand," Jordan said, after another minute of staring suspiciously at his own writing, "is how we speak the same language but the writing is completely different."

"We speak Common," Nika said. It was clear the question pleased him. "Which is the most-spoken language in the Reach, hence the name. But there are fifteen languages in Nictaven, and that's not including dialects. If we didn't all share a form of written language, life would be much harder."

"So it's a code?"

"In essence. Learning this, you would be able to read a letter from someone who only spoke Tochk with no difficulty. It's taught in all schools, regardless of language or region."

"So that's why it's so hard." Jordan scowled. "I understand it more but at the same time understand it even less now you've said that."

Nika chuckled. "It was invented by the first of the Harkenn line when the family took power so he could communicate with all his subjects. It was a move for consolidation of power, but it stuck and expanded instead of fading away."

"He was one clever bugger, then."

"Oh, yes. The Harkenn line has always been exceptionally intelligent; it's how they've stayed on the throne this long. I've heard rumours that the current reigning Harkenn can speak all fifteen languages."

"Bollocks."

"Not necessarily." Nika tried to sound disapproving and failed. "But I never asked. Perhaps Yddris knows."

"I'd prefer to pretend people that clever don't exist."

"Why?"

"Because it makes me feel spectacularly dumb, is why." He darted a furtive glance Nika's way. "No offence."

Nika laughed. "Why would that cause me offence?"

"Yddris said you're really clever, and you do medicine, which is double points. Don't mean to imply I'm pretending you're stupid for my benefit."

"Oh dear, Jordan, I'm not that clever," Nika said, wiping his eyes. Jordan watched him with a faint smile. "Kiel bless you."

The mention of Yddris had cast a shadow over his mood, though, and he soon found his smile fading. He hadn't seen his tutor since the previous night, after Arlen broke in. He wouldn't have thought anything of it if it hadn't been for that, but this time it worried him.

"Does Yddris seem off to you?" he asked Nika tentatively. "You know him better than I do."

"Off in what sense?" A thread of worry became audible in Nika's voice.

Jordan picked out his words. "Withdrawn. Vague."

Nika laced his fingers together and settled more comfortably on the bed. Instead of answering, he said, "Jordan, what happened to you that night?"

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