Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1

Sixty Two: A Name

There was a pause, and then Nika said warmly, "He's upstairs."

Koen also seemed to be holding something back, and with a sinking feeling Jordan realised they knew what he intended to do. "Anyway, when you're done – if you fancy a trip out into the city, Hap needs to do a supply run. I can't go with him and he won't ask, but you seemed to be at a loose end, and..."

"Of course," Jordan said. "I'll go."

"Thank you," Koen said, relief showing in his stance. "I'll go and tell him to wait."

"I don't mind helping," Jordan said in a small voice, when Koen had hurried off.

"It's not that," Nika said. "Hap is...stubborn, when it comes to his injury. He won't ask anyone for help with that."

"No, I mean...." Jordan picked Ren up off the bed and tucked her into his hood. His breathing almost immediately eased as she licked his ear and settled down. It was starting to feel strange when she wasn't in there. "I just feel like I should be doing something to help. But I can't run patrols and I didn't know him very well, and..."

"Jordan," Nika interrupted, coming forward and grasping his shoulders. "No one is expecting it of you. We will ask if we have a task you can help with. But," he said, holding up a finger to stall Jordan's response, "don't wish it all on yourself too early. Once you start fighting, you can never stop. Make the most of this."

Jordan nodded, unconvinced and uneasy.

"In the middle of the dark season, there's an undercover market that pops up for a few days in the city centre. I picked something up for you."

Jordan hadn't noticed that Nika was carrying a satchel until he started digging around in it, and produced a rectangular parcel wrapped in thin linens. Jordan unwrapped it to reveal a beautiful leather journal. Small patterns had been stitched into the cover, and the paper was thick and lightly scented.

"I noticed you were running short on space," Nika said. Jordan just nodded again, once more made grateful for his hood, since he'd started crying before he'd even fully uncovered it.

"Thank you," he croaked. "I...I can't let you pay for this, I...."

"It's a gift," Nika said. "I don't know when your nameday is, so I thought I'd give it to you now."

"My nameday?" Jordan repeated, and then realised what that meant. He counted back the weeks he'd been in Nictaven, and his stomach sank lower. "It was a while ago." He hadn't even noticed it pass.

"Well then," Nika said, and if he had gathered as much from Jordan's tone he didn't address it. "It can be a late one."

"Thank you," Jordan finished lamely. "It's amazing."

"I'm glad," Nika replied, "Ortin is on patrol soon. You should go and see him now."

Jordan had only barely pulled himself back together when he ascended the stairs to the training room, which he hadn't been into since Yddris had started playing host. It was no longer bare; belongings lined the walls, and someone had located a large workman's table. Ortin was the only one present, sitting at the table and writing into a vast ledger.

"Ah," Ortin said, putting down his pen. "I wondered when I might be seeing you up here."

Jordan flushed. He had been putting it off for days, and he wondered if Ortin had noticed. He shuffled closer, and at a gesture from the Unspoken helped himself to the remaining stool on the opposite side of the table. He clasped his hands in his lap and waited, because the idea had seemed so simple up until he was doing it and had realised he had no idea how it worked.