"Are you hungry?"
Grace seemed determined to distract him, racing around the kitchen like she hadn't been there in days. Jordan sat under the washing lines and watched her, battling the urge to set the place on fire. Nova was sitting by the hearth and roundly ignoring them both.
He didn't see why he had to be down here while the lord and Yddris sorted out the terms of his apprenticeship. It wasn't like it had nothing to do with him. At the same time, he was grateful for the extra time with his sister, no matter how flustered and scatter-brained she was.
"I ate before I came," he said. He eyed her critically when she came to a stop for one rare moment. Her face had the pinched look of someone who hadn't eaten well for several days. "You should eat, though."
"I'm fine," she said, whipping past him for the third time.
"You don't look fine," he said, reaching out and grabbing her hand before she got too far. She gasped and reeled to a stop, glowering at him when he didn't let go. She really did look terrible. "Grace, please."
He let go, expecting her to start running around again. For a moment she looked tempted, but then sighed and sat next to him on the bench, burying her face in her hands.
"I'm just feeling overwhelmed," she said, voice muffled. He knew her too well for that ruse, though, and looked around for a tissue. He settled on a tea towel hanging from the lines above them and handed it to her. She sniffed, glanced at it, and then snatched it from his hands to discreetly wipe away her tears.
"Me too," he said. He picked at a loose thread in his trousers. It was all very well dedicating his working life to Harkenn – which was overwhelming enough by itself - but he didn't even know what that work involved yet.
He wasn't at all keen on the idea of his sister working for Harkenn much longer, either.
"Do you feel different? In yourself?" Grace asked. There was a hint in her expression of the avid academic curiosity he knew so well, and it was reassuring.
"Well...yeah. And no." He frowned. "I can tell there's a difference. I don't feel like I've changed."
"The eyes are new," she said with a grin. "Funky colour."
Jordan scowled. That had been another nasty surprise, when he had caught his reflection in a window on the way to the castle. Everyone had conveniently forgotten to mention it to him, to the detriment of the old man whose front window Jordan had been staring into at the time.
"So...what can you actually do?"
"At the moment, it's limited to setting things on fire," Jordan said dully. "Randomly. Dunno what I'm supposed to be able to do with it, but whatever it is I can't do it yet."
"It's a force."
They both looked round. Nova was still facing away from them.
"What do you mean?" Grace asked. Jordan had opened his mouth to ask the same, but at that moment Nova turned round and fixed him with her dark eyes, and the words died in his throat. He was aware, on a vague peripheral level, that she had strange magic unlike that of the Unspoken, and that it was strong – he could feel it around her, and it scared him. A small smile curved her lips, as if she had guessed at his thoughts.
"Magic is a force," Nova said, "which means there is no 'it'. Manipulating magic is a case of manipulating direction and wavelength. If you understand the key principles, you can do most things you set your mind to so long as it is not outside your capacity." She shrugged. "There are shortcuts. You'll probably be taught runework, which is all you need for dealing with demons. Whether you learn more than that is down to Yddris."
"What do you mean by capacity?" Jordan asked. No one had mentioned that.
"It's a vast force. It's everywhere, in abundance," Nova said. "And you're just a small mortal vessel. You can't draw in more than you can handle or it will destroy you."
Jordan balked. "Oh."
If Nova was aware of the effect it had on him, she didn't seem to care very much. She looked at him for a moment longer before returning her gaze to the fire. When he still couldn't stop staring at her in mute horror, she sighed.
"Yddris won't allow that to happen," she said. "If it's any consolation, he's currently keeping it in check for you, and will do so until you can do it yourself."
"I didn't notice."
"You wouldn't. He's much better at manipulation than you are."
It made sense, suddenly, why Jordan hadn't set the lord's study on fire during the meeting. He had certainly been upset enough to set the contract ablaze, but he'd been too preoccupied to realise.
"But I set my bed on fire last night," he said, and his cheeks warmed when Grace turned to stare at him. "What about then?"
"He wasn't your tutor then. He knew when he heard about the contract terms that you were as good as apprenticed to him already, because there was little doubt that you'd sign when Harkenn was dangling Grace's life over your head. Therefore he wasn't, by Guild law definitions, being unduly intrusive by stepping in."
"How do you know this stuff?"
She spared him a glance. Her expression was unreadable. "Because I'm old. And much too nosy for my own good."
Grace had a peculiar expression on her face, but before Jordan could ask what was the matter he became aware of Nika, who had just entered the kitchen. Jordan hadn't heard him arrive, but he had known by the approaching aura of magic, detecting it long before he could see the man. Grace was the only one to jump when Nika spoke.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like a steaming pile of shit, actually," Jordan said. "But other than that, doing great."
"Yddris and I have agreed that, being that you are otherworld and unfamiliar with Nictaven, I should assist in teaching you in things that do not directly pertain to being Unspoken," Nika said.
Jordan frowned. "Doesn't that mean you have to put up with Yddris?"
Nika chuckled, and it was soft and melodious – not at all like Jordan had expected. "Yes, it does. I'm sure I'll live."
Jordan glanced at his sister's face before she could wipe the envy off it. "What about Grace? She can't read Nictavian, either."
Nika was silent for a moment, considering. Grace blushed.
"No, no, I don't want to put anyone to trouble," she said, shooting Jordan a sharp look, "Really, I'm sure I'll pick it up. I don't think the lord would allow me to take the time, in any case."
She reached back as if to scratch her neck and winced, hissing through her teeth. She dropped her hand, wiping it on the tea towel in her lap. Jordan's heart skipped. He snatched the towel from her before she could grab it and stared at the red spots there.
"You're bleeding," he said, leaning backwards despite Grace's protests. Splotches of blood were all over the back of her dress. "Show me. Show me, Grace."
"No!" Grace jumped up, clutching her dress at the front, and ran to the other side of the large kitchen counter. She glared at him across it. "Leave it."
"Just tell me what it is!" Jordan said, also getting up. "I wasn't as worried until you ran off like that. What is it? Did he do something to you?" He felt a crackle flit over his skin, abruptly intercepted by an invisible force. "If he laid his hands on you, Grace, I swear to God..."
"Jordan."
Jordan pushed Nika's hands away, stalking towards Grace. She stood her ground, chin tilted in defiance and arms crossed over the straps of her dress so that he couldn't reach them. Instead, he put his hands on her arms and squeezed. "Grace, please."
Though tears stood in her eyes, Grace seemed more in control of herself than he felt. She uncrossed her arms and reached up to undo the knot at her neck, but before she turned she said seriously, "Promise me you won't do anything dumb, Joe."
"Show me."
Her back was lacerated. He counted a dozen gashes littering her skin, still raw and weeping. Something had torn through the skin like it was paper, leaving glistening open wounds. Jordan stepped back, mind buzzing. Thoughts of any sort evaded him.
"He did this?" he whispered. "He did this to you?"
"They were interrogating both of us – me and Nova – about Sebastien's death, because we were here," Grace said. "I suppose they reasoned we would tell the truth for definite if there was a punishment involved."
"I left you here," Jordan mumbled, barely listening, "I left you here on your own."
Grace turned around, but Jordan could still see those welts in his mind's eye. "This isn't your fault, Joe. Don't you dare blame yourself for this."
"But I just left you here!" Jordan shouted. "With him! And he did this to you!"
Something broke; as it gave way, all he saw was green flame. Grace had taken several steps back, and the terror in her eyes pained him as much as it fuelled his anger. He took an angry stride towards her, unsure what he planned to do, but before he could get anywhere close Nika stepped in front of him and arms took hold of him from behind.
"Try a little harder to keep a lid on it, boy," Yddris growled. His breath stank of smoke. Jordan squirmed and tried to pry the arms from around his middle to no avail. "Making us both look stupid right now."
"I don't give a shit," Jordan hissed, "You see if I care."
"You'll care if I have to hit you to shut you up," Yddris said, squeezing until Jordan spluttered. "Which I'm not past doing, if you're thinking of trying anything funny."
Jordan stopped struggling, but his magic didn't dissipate. Behind Nika, he saw Grace watching him with wide eyes, and he was surprised to see Nova standing in front of her, shielding. Something about that took some of the wind out of his sails, and he felt a flood of shame.
As if sensing the shift, Yddris loosened his grip, turning it into a firm hand that drove him to a nearby kitchen stool. This time Jordan noticed the Unspoken take control of his magic for him, tightening the leash until the flames were gone and Jordan was left extinguished and exhausted. He had moved too fast, exerted too much energy, and he had already been feeling dreadful; now it was a battle to stay conscious, and one that he was losing. Yddris's grip was the only thing keeping him from slumping forward.
"Fuck," he whispered, tears burning his eyes. "Fuck, Grace, I'm sorry."
"It's alright," she replied in a tight voice, coming to him despite Nika's warning murmur. He looked blearily up at her, and winced at the distance in her eyes. After a moment, some of it cleared as she managed a faint smile, but it wasn't back to normal and he hated himself for making it that way. "It would have been impressive if it hadn't also been terrifying."
"I'm sorry," he said again, hanging his head. "I just... I just can't believe...."
"I know." She bent down and embraced him tightly. "I know."
-
It was much harder to leave her the second time. He would have refused if he hadn't been firmly reassured by Yddris that it would make things worse for both of them, and if Lord Harkenn, upon hearing about the incident, hadn't threatened to retract his offer and hang her anyway if he didn't refrain from trying to burn the castle down.
Jordan had also become more aware of Nova's behaviour around Grace, and something about it went a short way towards reassuring him that Grace at least had someone to look out for her, even if that someone was a slave. He knew held no more influence over the lord's decisions about Grace than Nova did. He suspected she might even have had more.
Still, he left the castle – firmly escorted out by an irate Brillan, who was incredibly upset at the scorch marks Jordan had left on the kitchen ceiling – feeling angry and useless.
"It was only because of the situation," Nika was telling him as they started down the mountain towards the city, "Harkenn doesn't whip his servants unless something like this happens. I know, it's cruel and it's unfair," he added over the beginning of Jordan's protests, "but there's nothing any of us can do about it. You've ensured she's in no danger of it happening again yourself. She's safe."
Unconvinced, still tempted to run back, grab his sister and make a break for it, Jordan just grunted.
"Are you coming, Nika?" Yddris said, speaking for the first time since they'd left the lord's chambers. He had come to a stop at a turnoff in the road. Jordan peered down it and frowned.
"Where are we going?"
"Your apprenticeship is full-time," Yddris said, somewhat flatly, "and your salary is more than a bit shit. That means you're living with me."
No one had mentioned this to Jordan that he could recall, and he fell into a short, horrified silence. He didn't mind the Unspoken, but he hadn't expected to spend every minute of the day with him.
"You'll have your own room, if I recall correctly," Nika said, clearly amused, "So you won't have to listen to Yddris snoring all night, if it's any consolation."
"Fuck you, Nika." Yddris started off down the street.
"So charming," Nika sighed. "I will join you this evening, Jordan, but all my things are still at the inn. I'll see you later."
Jordan looked up at the sky as Nika walked away. He had thought it was evening already. It was gloomy out, the visibility terrible. He could only see as much as he did because of the glowing lanterns at intervals along the streets. He sighed, feeling the weight of his decision bearing down on him like a speeding train, and went to join Yddris, who hadn't gone far before stopping to wait for him. His silhouette was unnerving, with the deep cowl and long cloak, especially through the lens of it being Jordan's fate if he didn't find a way to get himself and Grace back home.
"So what happens now?" he asked, staring at the cobbles at Yddris's feet when someone walked past them the other way. He felt them looking at him, and felt the burn of embarassment when he thought about how they had probably seen his eyes glowing from halfway down the road.
"Dinner sounds good," Yddris grunted, walking off again. He slowed his pace for Jordan, who was still woozy and a little unsteady on his feet.
The Unspoken stopped at a house halfway down the row. The houses along this street were two-storey, made of dark stone the colour of slate that was mottled white in places. The second floor overhung the first, casting the front door into shadow. Some houses had foliage sitting outside and ornaments in the windows, but Yddris's windows were bare and his only decoration around the door was a pile of filth and a broom head that had seen much better days.
Inside wasn't any more illustrious than the outside. The hall was short, whitewashed and clean, but without anything on the walls or even a rug to cover the bare boards. The front room had a fireplace with a grate, a mantel and a single large cooking pot. It smelled of mildew and dust and was otherwise empty. Aside from the cooking pot, there was no evidence that anybody lived there.
"Through here," Yddris's voice called from beyond another doorway on the other side of the room. A flicker of green came to life in the dark, crackling in Yddris's open palm. It threw eerie green shadows over the walls of the second hall Jordan stepped into. There were two more doorways and a narrow staircase leading up into darkness.
"Cellar," the man said, pushing the first door open and revealing it to be a staircase going downwards. "And this one will be yours."
He walked past the cellar stairs to the next doorway, which didn't have a door on it. The room beyond it had a distinct air of disuse. There was a modestly-sized empty wardrobe in the corner, a bedframe with no mattress on it, and two short bookshelves with three very dusty books still stacked on it sat above a writing desk with no chair.
Jordan waited for Yddris to say something, not sure whether thanks were appropriate in this context.
"You'll have to use a spare bedroll for tonight," Yddris said. "It's been eight years since anyone slept in here, so there's no pallet. I'll buy a new one tomorrow."
"Eight years?" Jordan repeated.
"That was when my last apprentice left," Yddris said.
"How many have you had?"
"You're the third."
"Who was the second?"
Yddris paused, and in that silence Jordan realised what he'd missed.
"Nika?"
Yddris just grunted. He turned away and and beckoned for Jordan to follow.
"The attic's up there," he said, pointing at the narrow stairs. "Nothing in it. We'll use it as a practice room sometimes."
Before Jordan could ask what they would be practicing, Yddris was halfway down the stairs to the cellar. Jordan gingerly followed, aware that the stairs were groaning underneath him, and that if he fell it was a long drop to a quick death on the stone floor below.
Unlike the bareness of the rest of the house, the cellar was crammed with Yddris's belongings. Yddris's light shone green over countless objects lining the walls and stacked on shelves that looked as though the man had made them and put them up himself. At first the green light was too strange for Jordan to make out what anything was, and then an icy knot appeared in his stomach when he realised that the oddly shiny wall he had been staring at was covered with weapons. There were rows of knives, some short and some long, with ornate handles or rotted wooden ones. Small throwing blades lay in glittering piles on a shelf nearby. The centrepiece of the wall was a gleaming greatsword crossed with a battleaxe, both polished to a high shine.
"You, um...like knives?" Jordan asked in a squeaky voice.
"Like is a strong word," Yddris grunted, chuckling shortly. "I'm good with them. There's a difference."
He stepped forward and surveyed the wall with Jordan, who couldn't tear his eyes away. So many weapons, and what for?
Yddris stepped forward and took a dagger from its display hooks. He gave it a wipe on his cloak, flipped it deftly in one hand and offered it to Jordan hilt-first.
"You never know," Yddris said, when Jordan didn't take it. "I want you to carry this at all times, especially before you've learned to defend yourself with other means. You don't need any special technique to poke a few holes in an attacker and run away."
Hesitantly, Jordan took the dagger. It felt lighter than he had expected, but much heavier in a different way. As if by taking the blade, some very important door had just slammed shut behind him.
He nodded, eyes drawn back to the wall of blades as a long, dark path of unknowns unfurled before him.