"He's waking up."
Shadows moved in front of him as his eyes opened, gummy from sleep and terribly sore. As awareness returned to him, he realised it wasn't just his eyes, but his whole body that hurt. Every breath was a struggle. It felt as though his insides had been scorched.
Jordan dragged himself into consciousness, groaning at the pain. He was in bed, though he had made it onto a guest bed somehow, and he wasn't in his room. He didn't remember moving.
A figure in a black cloak with the hood pulled up sat on the end of the bed. A faint glint of luminous green glittered at him from the depths of the cowl, sparking a memory. Jordan frowned. He had never been able to see Yddris's eyes before.
He sat bolt upright.
"Calm down, boy," Yddris said immediately, "The demons are gone."
Jordan blinked. His throat ached when he spoke. "There was more than one?"
"Four."
Jordan turned and jumped. Nika was standing beside the bed.
"One chased you inside," the Unspoken continued, voice flat, "Another two came in afterwards that Yddris dealt with, but when the fourth came in I was forced to leave you. One cornered you before Hap or Koen could get to you."
"Didn't need to in the end," Yddris said. He sat very still, but the luminous gaze was still fixed on Jordan's face. "Do you remember what happened after that?"
"I..." Jordan trailed off. "No."
Yddris and Nika exchanged a glance. Jordan scowled, and winced as prickling heat danced over his skin. He was aware of the two men watching him as he reached up and rubbed his bare chest to try and disperse it, but his efforts only seemed to make it worse.
"That isn't going to work," Yddris said. "Put it out first, eh?"
"Put what out?"
He looked down, and for a long moment failed to process what he was looking at. His hand was enveloped in swirling green flame like a glove, spitting and crackling in the same way the air around the Unspoken always did, only this time it felt different.
This time it was coming from him.
"I..." Jordan said in a strangled voice. "How..."
"We don't know how it happens..." Nika began, but Jordan cut him off.
"How the fuck do I put it out?" he said, voice rising. "What is it doing?"
"Nothing." Yddris shrugged. "It's doing a fat lot of nothing right now, boy, as you can see. And if you continue to panic it's going to spread, not go away."
"My hand is on fire," Jordan said. "And it. Is. Green. Don't panic sounds a tad patronising. Just...just a tad."
He held his hand out to Yddris, half hoping the flames would vanish or his hand would fall off; anything to make it go away. The Unspoken sighed.
"I told you," Nika said quietly.
"And you were right," Yddris grunted, "As per dark-damned usual. Perhaps Koen would do a better job of this."
"I'll go and get him."
Nika left, moving without noise. Jordan stared at his flaming hand. Even when Yddris had admitted to him how probable it was that this would happen, he still found it impossible to comprehend. Magic; magic existed and he was producing it like it was air. He had fallen through a real portal into a real world on the other side of it; it was all real and he wasn't going to wake up back at home any moment.
Yddris fidgeted and looked away for the first time as tears escaped and splashed down Jordan's cheeks. He didn't dare wipe them away. What if he somehow burned his eyes?
Koen was uncharacteristically solemn when he arrived. Nika didn't return with him and it was only a few moments before Yddris mumbled an excuse and made an exit.
"You've really thrown them for a loop," Koen said with a chuckle.
"I've thrown them for a loop?" Jordan stared, and then brandished his hand again as if it wasn't obvious enough. "Look at me!"
The fire crackled on unperturbed. It wasn't unpleasant warmth, and the chill in the room no longer felt quite so harsh, but that didn't mean he wanted it. He'd take hypothermia over whatever was happening to him now.
"Laurel wanted me to bring you this," Koen said, after a long moment of silence. He put a chipped stone plate on Jordan's knees. The bun on it was still warm and fragrant. "She also wanted me to tell you she'll be mortally offended if you don't eat it."
Jordan snorted, imagining her saying it, and the flames around his hand flickered before going out. He stared at it for a moment and then looked up at Koen.
"It responds to emotions," Koen said. "It takes a bit of practice to avoid doing that every time. You're doing much better than I did. I set my whole house on fire."
"Really?" Jordan asked, glancing at his hand again. "That's possible?"
"When you aren't manipulating it at all it just behaves like normal fire," Koen said. "The more upset you are the harder it is to manipulate it. I was...very upset when I manifested. You were one of the lucky ones who saw it coming."
Jordan took a bite of his bun to distract himself from the thought of setting something on fire by accident. What would it be, if he lost control? The inn? His clothes? Grace?
He choked on his food. Grace.
"I need to tell my sister," he said. He wasn't sure whether he was hoping for reassurance or simply stating a fact.
"I'm sure she'd appreciate that, yes," Koen said amiably, "But if you want to do it yourself you might have to wait a day or two. Manifestation takes a lot out of you, which you might have guessed from the sensation of having had your internal organs torched." He shrugged. "Or you could ask Yddris to pass it along when he goes back."
"He's leaving?"
"Harkenn does employ him," Koen pointed out, "He can't just vanish for days on end. Hap and I will be sticking around, so you won't be on your own. Nika probably will too, depending on how long he's willing to put up with Yddris."
"That's a strong factor," Nika said, entering with a pitcher of water and a cup and drifting to the bedside again. "But I'll be staying. Laurel told me you'd like to learn Nictavian script. I can start teaching you if you wish."
"Really?" Jordan asked. "That's great. Thanks." He gave a sheepish smile which came out as more of a grimace. "I'm a bit fed up of not understanding anything."
"When you're well enough we can start."
Jordan took another bite of his bun, trying to ignore the crackle in the air around him. He was more aware than ever that Koen and Nika were there; he felt hypersensitive to their magic. He almost sensed the edges of it, where the aura around them ended, and then realised how ridiculous that sounded.
Magic itself was ridiculous, in fact. The stuff of kids' books. If Jordan hadn't seen and felt that it existed he would never have believed it. He had never seen any evidence on earth.
Perhaps that meant there was none on earth. Perhaps that meant that if he could just get home this gift would somehow vanish. Heartened by the idea that if he could translate Arlen's note he could at least say he tried, and clinging to it with the determination of a man who could set himself on fire if he caved to the encroaching despair, Jordan accepted the water Nika offered him with good grace. He even managed a small smile, even though it pained him.
"I don't feel that awful," he said. He put his cup and plate on the bedside table. "Physically, I mean."
"Try standing up," Koen said.
"Don't encourage him to do that, Koen," Nika said, "We don't need him blacking out again."
Koen held up his hands. Jordan thought he winked. "Don't try standing up."
On the edge of Jordan's awareness, something squirmed. It came from somewhere down on the floor, but when he looked there was nothing there. He sat up again, frowning, and was alarmed to find Koen and Nika both looking in the same direction.
"There's an unconscious demon down there," Koen said. "We just felt it move."
They sat still for a while, Koen and Nika alert and staring downwards and Jordan looking between them, more than a bit unsettled. He shuddered when it moved again. It tickled against his skin and made it crawl.
"I don't like that," he squeaked. "I really don't like that."
A thump from downstairs. The wriggling stopped.
"I think Killian might have just hit it with a sledgehammer." Koen sounded gleeful as the clatter of something metal and heavy echoed up the stairs.
Nika sighed. "Laurel won't take kindly to mopping that up."
Jordan's gorge rose, an image flashing in his mind of the bright yellow eyes from behind the deer skull and the feeling of hot drool in his lap. And then the burn as the magic forced its way out of him.... He stopped, and shuddered. It was coming back to him now and he wanted it to go away again.
He settled back on his pillow and stared at the ceiling for a moment. Something small and leggy bumbled along a rafter high above them. The shadows of moths flickered over the ceiling in the light from the candles.
"Is it still night time?" he asked, feeling detached from his own voice.
"It's only been a few hours," Nika told him, "It'll be daybreak soon."
"Okay." He yawned, and then frowned. A tide of fatigue washed over him.
"You need sleep, Jordan. We'll answer more questions when you wake up."
Sleep claimed him swiftly.
When he woke up again the inn was quiet and his room was empty. He was sweating from another nightmare, and his blankets bore evidence that it had prompted a few small bonfires during the night. The air smelled of singed wool.
He felt even worse than he had a few hours after his magic had appeared – he snorted; even with so much evidence it sounded insane – but his bed and nightclothes were soaked with sweat. He swayed where he stood as he got out, listening to the pounding roar in the back of his head. It had been in his nightmare, that roar, he was sure of it. It was repetitive, ceaseless, and it made his insides burn unpleasantly. He knocked his head a couple of times with the heel of his palm to try and clear it, but only succeeded in making himself dizzier.
He steadied himself on the bedframe. Fresh clothes were folded on the sill six feet away, but the six feet stretched on as he inched his way around the perimeter of the room to fetch them. The washroom seemed even further away, and even the prospect of washing made him want to sit on the floor and pass out. He stripped off his sweaty nightshirt and pulled on some fresh underclothes. He could wash when his head didn't feel like it was filled with helium.
He paused as he reached for his shirt, and looked down. He swallowed a string of imaginative curses at the sight of the marks stretching over his chest, several shades darker than his skin. Unlike Nika's, none of them looked like symbols or were arranged in any kind of pattern. He thought it looked rather like he'd been splashed with fake tan.
"For fuck's sake," he mumbled, tracing them with a finger. "What is this even supposed to be?"
"Oh, you're up," Laurel said as she came in. She was carrying a tankard that was steaming lightly. When they met eyes, Jordan's face heated and Laurel cleared her throat and turned to face the opposite wall.
"I brought you soup. I thought you might be hungry," she said in a small voice, and then, seeming to regain some of her confidence, "You're not supposed to be out of bed yet, you know."
"Are you going to make me get back in?" Jordan asked. When she turned around he realised too late that his shirt was on backwards.
"I can't make you do anything," Laurel said, putting the soup down on the bedside table. "Come here."
Face burning now, willing himself not to set to her on fire, Jordan allowed Laurel to fix his shirt. He was too aware of her proximity. He caught a flicker of green out of the corner of his eye and crushed it in his fist, cursing his luck. Laurel straightened out his shirt over his shoulders and then smiled at him. If the fact that he had manifested magic bothered her, she showed no sign of it.
"Do you want to eat with Koen and Killian downstairs?" she asked. "I'll help you down there."
"Where are the others?"
"Hap and Nika have gone to the tailor's down the street," Laurel said. "Yddris went back to the castle hours ago. He said he'll be back tomorrow morning."
"What do they need at the tailor's?" Jordan mumbled, feeling strangely disappointed as she moved away.
Laurel hesitated. Jordan narrowed his eyes.
"What is it?"
"Well..." Laurel said, "You'll need a cloak, won't you? They have to be custom made."
Jordan's heart dropped into his stomach. Laurel looked flustered.
"It won't be ready for a few days," she said. "And you're not well enough to go anywhere. So don't worry about it yet." She paused. "And besides, you don't need to wear one until you're apprenticed."
"Apprenticed," Jordan repeated. "Right. Shit."
He didn't want to admit that he had forgotten, but it would be obvious that his bowels had turned to icy slush at the reminder. He faced three years of learning to control magic he didn't want if he couldn't find a way out of this place fast enough. What would that do to him? What would that do to Grace?
"Oh, hell," he murmured, realising that Yddris would probably tell Grace what had happened on his return. "Grace is going to kill me."
"It's not your fault," Laurel said.
"It'll be my fault she didn't get any warning," Jordan muttered darkly, "You wait and see if it isn't."
With Laurel's help – and ample assistance from the banisters – Jordan hobbled down to the taproom, and arrived just as Nika and Hap returned. Jordan couldn't help glowering at them. He felt resentful towards them when he knew it wasn't fair; but hadn't his symptoms got exponentially worse since they arrived? It wasn't a stretch to assume that it sped things up.
"Well met, Jordan," said Hap. "How are you feeling? I would have come up to see you but my leg has trouble with the stairs."
There was a note of sadness in his voice that made Jordan feel bad for scowling at him. Koen bounced out of the booth he had been sitting in with Killian and engaged his tutor in conversation straightaway. Laurel darted off to the kitchen, leaving Jordan's soup on the table and Jordan alone with Nika.
"It's a lot to take in, isn't it?" Nika said. There was an uncommon softness in his words that hadn't been there when Yddris was present. "But it can be very rewarding work, depending on your field."
Jordan frowned.
"We don't just handle demons," Nika explained, leading him to the table with his food on it and urging him to sit. The Unspoken slid into the seat opposite. "Often we have another call to answer as well. Our gifts are very handy when it comes to demons and often very lucrative but it's rare to only work in that field. I also work in medicine, for example."
"Somehow you're not surprising me," Jordan said, taking a long draught of his soup and finding himself hungrier than expected. "What about Hap?"
"Hap is extremely skilled at making things," Nika said. "Metalwork and mechanics, mostly, though his carpentry skills are also excellent."
"You flatter me, Nika," Hap's voice called from the other booth.
"Yddris is a fighter and has been known to do mercenary work," Nika said, voice cooling, "Since I know you will ask. You'd have to go a long way to find someone with better aim."
Jordan looked round as a draught blew through the inn. Nika made a noise of distinct displeasure in the back of his throat as Yddris entered.
"I thought you weren't back until tomorrow," Nika said, in a tone of voice that suggested he'd have preferred it that way. If it bothered Yddris it didn't show in his voice.
"Wasn't going to be," he said. "Until I got there and found a household staff member was murdered and there's an Orthanian acolyte on house arrest for suspected involvement. The only other witnesses present were the slave and Jordan's sister. It's landed her in a fair bit of trouble and I thought the boy ought to know. If that meets your approval, Nika."
Jordan stood up abruptly and had to steady himself on the side of the booth as his head span. "What do you mean, trouble?"
"Being an otherworlder and one of the only witnesses, and being that the Orthanian acolyte is a favourite of the baron's and likely to lose him a great deal of face if charged guilty, she's in a pile of shit way over her head, boy. Wrong place, wrong time."
"But...but she isn't guilty of..." Jordan trailed off. It wasn't processing. He hadn't got past the fact that there had been a murder somewhere where his sister was living, let alone that she was implied in the crime. With a quiet sigh, two identical licks of green flame burst into life in his hands, and he was too distracted to even attempt putting them out.
"That's not the point." Yddris sighed. "Ethred has a great deal of influence. The case presented to the Lord for discharging your sister needs to be more compelling than what Ethred is prepared to bribe him with."
"Like what?" Jordan said, panic rising like a tide.
"Something that he hasn't had guaranteed to him already. He's set his price," Yddris said flatly. "He wants you."