Nightsworn | The Whispering Wall #2

Seventy: A Vote

It was not fun being back inside a carriage with a stressed-out witch man. Arlen glanced sidelong at Haverford, who refused to look back at him. It was alright for Usk, who had escaped up to the driver's box at the first opportunity. It was just Arlen who had to feel like he was cooking alive in here.

"Your witch place didn't teach you how to make that less obvious?" he grunted. "Nict's balls, kid."

"Oh, yeah, they did," Jordan muttered. "I'm just that much more fucking stressed."

"Well, try and keep a cap on it," Arlen replied. He paused. "Is it the jobs I've assigned you?"

He kept it vague; after all, they were in a carriage Marick had sent, for the first time in a long while. Arlen had only got in because he had Jordan and Usk with him, and because refusing it would have looked strange. With everything he had planned, he couldn't afford to do anything that anyone would look at closer.

"Partly," Jordan muttered, and then seemed to realise he'd opened himself up for further questioning. "Mainly."

"Anything I can help with?"

Jordan looked at him. Arlen couldn't decipher how the boy felt, but suspected it would annoy him. "No."

"You don't trust me."

"Why would I?" Jordan snapped, and then seemed to recall who he was talking to. He looked away. "You've told me yourself on multiple occasions that I shouldn't. I'm just slightly more confident you won't do me in than I am with everyone else. Slightly."

"I don't think you need worry about that," Arlen sat back, sighing, "considering how superstitious everyone is. It's a mad bastard that tries to kill Unspoken, if they believe in any gods at all. It's not just Harkenn's law that keeps you protected, boy. Half of Nictaven thinks you've got the power to wreak revenge from beyond the grave. You should be more worried about them digging through your personal life and using it against you."

Whatever his apprentice's thoughts were on that, he kept them to himself. "What's this meeting for?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Arlen said. Once there had been a time when he knew all of Marick's plans before anyone else did. If he didn't know of them, no one did. The years of his ascension through the guild ranks had been some of the most ruthless, exhilarating years of his life. For a moment, he missed that time with a pang, and then cursed himself for being soft. Still, it was not an easy thing to contemplate when he thought about his situation as it was now. He almost hoped for Marick to give him some reason not to continue planning for the worst case scenario, but every time he thought it, the Devil leader went one step further towards edging him out of the group. Part of him could not believe that he had been set aside in favour of a deal with Angels; surely it was a better reason than that, surely it was at least something he had done to deserve it.

But there was no point to self-pity.

"If you're going to follow me," Arlen added softly, knowing that they both knew what he meant, "it might be an idea to trust me a little more. Not blindly. I don't ask that of anyone. But there may come a time when your life depends on my judgement."

Despite all his coverings, Jordan visibly shuddered. "I guessed as much." He paused. "I can respect your judgement without trusting you."

The sheer balls of the statement took the wind out of Arlen's anger. The boy was much more confident than he had been, whether he recognised it or not. He sat back and turned to the window. Haverford was clearly not feeling forthcoming, and he wouldn't get anything out of him by pushing it further. If Jordan interpreted his silence as anger, then it could serve just as well as a warning.