Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1

Twenty Four: Bad News

"How long have you been Unspoken?" he asked Yddris, to distract himself from those thoughts.

"Lost track," Yddris said indifferently. "Stopped counting when I stopped giving a shit." He got to his feet and went to the window. "Here's Nika."

He went out into the hall. A breeze rolled in as the door opened and Jordan heard voices there, but no one came inside. The voices rose to a pitch before stopping. He frowned, and was about to get up and see what the matter was when the door slammed. One figure entered, and he presumed it was Nika judging by the amount he was carrying. Yddris didn't come back in.

"He'll be back," Nika said. His voice was oddly hollow. "There's an emergency at the castle."

Jordan got to his feet and watched Nika with uncertainty from a distance. Something was wrong. The man was moving slowly, vaguely, as if in shock. He fumbled and dropped one of the bags and cursed, and Jordan stepped forward to help.

"Put these..." Nika pushed a bag of small, round objects into Jordan's hands, "...in the pantry cupboard. It's under the stairs." He swallowed audibly. "You can have one if you're hungry, I won't get dinner until Yddris comes back."

Jordan peeked into the cloth sack. Several deep purple fruits glistened in the bottom. He picked one out and gave it an experimental sniff and a squeeze. They looked and felt like plums, and seemed innocuous enough. The pantry cupboard was a small hatch in the wall under the stairs. It was empty aside from three shrivelled potatoes that had grown into a leafy, anaemic bush, and Jordan was about to call to Nika to ask whether he should clear them out when he heard a loud bump and a gasp.

He abandoned the bag of fruit in the cupboard and dashed back to the front room. He found Nika sitting on the floor, head in his hands. A sheaf of wavy white hair had broken loose from his cowl.

Jordan froze in the doorway, his nervousness around Nika warring with his urge to do something helpful. He took a tentative step forward, opened his mouth, closed it again. Nika sniffed and looked up, and Jordan jumped.

"Can I do anything?" he blurted.

Nika blew out a shaky breath. "Sorry. I just...I had a moment, that's all." He paused. "I don't suppose you've seen a bottle of whisky or something like it anywhere?"

Jordan frowned. He had seen a few glass bottles in the cellar, but it had been too dim to see what was in them.

"There's bottles of something in the cellar," he said. "I don't know if they're alcohol."

"They will be," Nika said, "If they're in the cellar. I could do with something stiff."

"Right." Jordan turned to the cellar, looked at his hands, and then turned back again. "Do you have a candle?"

Equipped with a candle – burning a reassuring orange in front of him – Jordan went into the cellar. He couldn't help the squeeze of trepidation around his heart as the wall of knives glittered at him. It was easier to see them with a normal flame. He looked around. Lengths of rope hung from the ceiling. Some of them ended in grappling hooks, others were thick enough to use as mooring rope. He spotted more weapons; hooks and spikes, a spear, a scimitar darkened with what he hoped was rust. Behind two saddles, which were badly cracked and stank of old horse, Jordan found the bottles he had seen earlier. When he removed the cork of the largest bottle, which was half full of dark liquid, it smelled like bourbon. He took it back upstairs.

Nika had collected himself somewhat when Jordan returned. He was unpacking his things; laying out a bedroll, crockery, and ingredients for dinner. Several thick volumes sat next to the bed, all bristling with little markers made of paper.