Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1

Fifty Four: Promises

"And if he'd had Usk beat me to a pulp instead?" Jordan snapped. "I'm not risking a cracked skull over a sack of money that doesn't belong to me. He hasn't asked me to do anything else. I was just convenient because I can't fucking defend myself and when I try I put lives at risk. What am I supposed to do, exactly?" He was shouting before he knew it, and Yddris let him. "I don't know how many times I have to explain how difficult it is trying to understand this place. This...thing I got lumped with. Where I'm from, magic was just pretend. Tricks of the eye and just blatant lying. Women walking around with barely anything on, loads of glitter, some pigeons, a cage or two, not...that." He pointed at the scorch ring he'd left on the wall. "That's not natural. And the only person who's offering me anything else should be in prison." He spread his arms and took a step back. "Well? What do I do with that kind of choice?"

Yddris was silent for so long that Jordan almost walked away, and might have done if the smell of charred demon hadn't reached him on the breeze. His stomach heaved in protest. It was a hot, close smell, like sweating meat left in a warm room for far too long. He glanced back over his shoulder, at the burnt lumps littering the alley. His fists clenched, making his gloves squeak. His palms prickled.

Pressure on his boot, and then Ren squeaked and scrambled up his front to climb back inside his hood. She had no fear of him, and as she settled down in her usual space, some of the tightness in his chest eased.

"I did that," he whispered, unable to tear his eyes from the corpses.

"You did," Yddris replied. He took one step forward, and then another, and placed a hand on Jordan's shoulder. A muscle twitched with the urge to shake him off, but Jordan stayed it and turned to face the darkness of his tutor's hood.

"What do I do?"

Yddri's grip tightened. "You adapt. You do what you can to survive. And when the opportunity presents itself, you run."

"Is that what you did?"

Yddris stilled. "I'll help you, boy, because you're my apprentice and you didn't choose this, and because that man deserves to eat shit for the rest of his days. But I offer this help on the condition that we don't talk about it, you understand? Nika isn't to know. Your sister isn't to know. Harkenn certainly isn't to know. And you won't ask, because I won't break my oaths over this. Do we have a deal?"

"Can I ask one thing?"

"Depends on what it is."

"Why?"

"I already answered that."

"But you could easily leave me to it. We barely know each other, and you obviously would rather not be involved at all. So why didn't you just pretend you didn't know? Why even tell me you knew anything?"

"If you'd been run over by a cart once before and barely escaped with your life, would you watch someone else put themselves in front of a cart and do nothing about it?" Jordan frowned and opened his mouth, but Yddris held up a finger. "You said one question. You aren't getting more than that. Let's go and get this dark-damned drug, and then you're coming straight back with me. We need to have a talk."

"What about those?" Jordan pointed at the demon corpses in the alley.

"No one's going to be trying to take those anywhere, trust me." Yddris pulled out his pipe and began to stuff it, hefting the sack of money under one arm. "While you drop this off I'll take 'em to a guard post and register them. You got a bit of pocket money out of it at least, wights are worth five Shil each."

Jordan blinked. "I don't know what that means."

"It means you just earned almost seven times your weekly allowance in one night, boy."