Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1

Thirty: Memories

"You seem to be close with that maid," the butler said, as they crossed the foyer to the stairs.

"She talks to me," Nova replied. "And if you so much as breathe a word about it to his Lordship, I will curse you into an early grave."

Brillan chuckled. "Whatever grave you cursed me into, girl, it would not be early."

Nova pressed her lips together to stop herself smiling. She never had got on well with Brillan, but the old man had his moments. She also knew he wouldn't tell; there wasn't a soul in the castle who didn't have something they wanted kept quiet. One snitch risked setting off a whole chain of staff dishing dirt on each other, and so it was universally understood that short of killing someone, your secrets stayed your own.

It was especially useful that most of the staff seemed to be under the impression that Nova could get into their thoughts, a notion she hadn't done much to dispel.

An almost imperceptible sigh escaped Brillan as they reached the top of the stairs, where the shouting from the study at the end of the hall became audible.

"They're still going," he said dully. Nova frowned. She recognised Faellian's voice – the quieter of the two – and the other she was sure was Ethred, though she had never heard him so discomposed.

"...if you think I'm going to stand for this, Faellian..."

"You don't have a choice, Ethred, and night take me, stop swinging that thing around..."

Brillan cleared his throat outside the study door and knocked. The noise inside ceased immediately.

"Come in," Faellian said, two heartbeats later.

They entered. Faellian was seated behind his desk as if he had been there the entire time, but the baron was standing in the middle of the study with a pike in his hand. Nova looked to the wall behind him and saw the empty brackets where the weapon had been, and then at the baron, who fidgeted as if he only then realised the stupidity of stealing a weapon off the Nictavian ruler's study wall and brandishing it at him.

"Ah," Faellian said, getting up. "Finally."

He came around the desk, looking down his nose at her. She stiffened, leaning away as he paused and looked closer at her.

"Is that ink on your face?"

It was an effort not to show her dismay at this. Beside her Brillan sniffed.

"Some of the potboys were taking their lessons in letters," the butler said, without looking at Nova, "Kiel knows how they manage to spread it around so thoroughly."

Faellian wrinkled his nose. "Well, make sure it's cleaned up. I won't have my guests finding ink in their food this evening." He scowled at Nova, as if she'd got ink on her face just to upset him. "We haven't got time to clean you up. Brillan, make sure the maid comes with a washcloth. We can at least make an attempt." He turned away, scowling at the baron. "Put that bloody pike back, you look a dark-damned fool."

Ethred sneered, but faint colour rose in his cheeks and he put the pike back on the wall. Brillan bowed and left.

"Not only are you accusing me of breaking him out, then," the baron hissed, "but you're seriously taking it to Eril to verify the truth of my words? The insult is grievous, Faellian."

Nova frowned.

"No," the lord said, without turning round. He sipped at a glass of pale apple wine, which Nova noted he had not offered to Ethred. "I'm taking it to Eril to sort this mess out. Who broke him out is clear; it was Devils' work. One of them was sighted, remember?" Faellian ceased pretending he was at all interested in the documents he was fiddling with and fixed the baron with a cold glare. "At this stage, whether they were paid to do so by a third party is secondary to the issue at hand."