"Yddris."
Jordan stumbled to his feet and had to catch himself on the wall. Sure enough, his tutor stood there in the courtyard, and Darin was behind him, cowering against the wall inside a radius of scorched brick. Jordan swallowed, knowing what had happened immediately, and what could have gone wrong if Yddris had arrived a moment later.
"I left you at the temple, boy," Yddris growled. "What the fuck are you doing out here? Who's he?"
He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Darin, who stared at Jordan like he'd grown another head.
"I didn't have a choice," Jordan croaked, throat embarrassingly tight.
Yddris took a step forward, and then paused. Turned on Darin, who flinched. "Name?"
"Darin Blackheart."
"Fuck's sake." Yddris pinched his nose. "Of course you're related."
"They're not," Jordan said, when it looked like Darin would either faint or punch Yddris, neither of which would end well. "He's adoptive. And disowned."
"And that's why that one's clutching a sack of cash bigger than his head, is it?" Yddris snarled. "A factory job won't make you that in five years, boy."
"My mother will die if we are evicted," Darin snapped. He shook off some of his stupor. "I don't earn enough to keep the house. Beyond that, he has nothing to do with us, nor do we have anything to do with him. If you're going to get me arrested, make sure she gets to the Medica." His voice broke. "And I hope whatever stopped Arlen from coming himself kills him."
He stalked forward, dropped the sack of money at Yddris's feet, and walked off, picking his way through the charred corpses of four wights and disappearing around the corner.
Yddris didn't move.
"Are you going to get him arrested?" Jordan asked. Guilt gnawed at his insides; it was Arlen's fault Darin was involved, but Jordan had brought Yddris here, whether he'd meant to or not.
"No." Yddris inhaled sharply. "What else did he want from you?"
"Mary-Beth."
"Oh, night take me. I didn't think he was into anything that hard." He paused. "But it would explain a lot."
Jordan looked over his shoulder. He didn't know where Usk was or how far he'd gone, whether he was listening now. He felt trapped as much as he felt relieved; everything would have been so much simpler if Yddris hadn't followed him.
He reminded himself firmly that if Yddris hadn't followed him he could have killed Darin, and his stomach lurched.
"He scarpered when he saw me coming," Yddris muttered, leaning down to pick up the sack at his feet. "I gave him good reason not to bother me again last time we met." He weighed the sack in his hands and then fixed Jordan with a look. "You agreed to this?"
Jordan swallowed, shame heating his face. "He threatened Grace."
"There is no way in all the circles of the Pit that anyone else knows about that." The Unspoken nodded in the direction Darin had gone. "Siphoning money from jobs to pay rent for a candle factory worker? His employer would have his bollocks if he knew, and his employer is the one with agents in the castle, not him."
Jordan's face burned now. "You can't expect me to know this stuff. And he could decide to do it himself."
"Not while his employer is using her to bait you already. It'd be more than his life was worth." Yddris sounded sad, and almost disappointed. It was hard to bear.
"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."
"Does exploding and almost killing someone count?"
"They're dead," Yddris grunted, "And as long as you didn't actually kill anyone, yes, it counts. It's on my head if there are casualties."
Jordan swallowed and rubbed his arms, even though he wasn't cold. "I didn't mean to."
"And that's exactly why I'm the one who'll be thrashed five ways to eighthday if you hurt someone."
If you hurt someone. Jordan swallowed. He could have killed Darin; why had he ever thought he had enough control to let it go?
Yddris's hand came down on his shoulder again and grasped it. Jordan took a deep breath and pushed away his spiralling thoughts, and in silence he helped Yddris haul the paving slab back over the vault entrance. They picked their way out of the alley and Yddris struck off in the opposite direction to Darin's house. Jordan's gut tightened at the idea of carrying a sack of money that size through the city at night, and as he hurried to keep up with Yddris he caught the glint of a blade disappearing up his tutor's sleeve. His hand went to his own unused knife at his hip; he balked and moved it up to stroke Ren instead. In response to his nerves, the shadow runner was tense, fur bristling, but she nipped gently at his fingers as if to encourage him. He turned his head to press his cheek against her warm fur, and his eye caught movement down a side street, just as Usk pressed himself into a hidden doorway.
"I know," Yddris muttered, as Jordan drew alongside him to say something. "Pretend you haven't noticed."
They were soon clear of the dense network of streets surrounding the candle factory and heading deeper into the merchants' quarter. Jordan occasionally caught a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, but didn't catch another full glimpse of Usk despite his vast size.
The apothecary they stopped at was tucked into a narrow lane off of the broad avenue known as the Threadneedle. It was dimly lit inside, but still open even at this time of night, and Yddris stepped inside without hesitating. A bell jangled above them, and Jordan jumped as he placed his foot on the hot spot of a rune drawn on the front step. He skipped over it and entered the odd-smelling darkness. Bunches of herbs hung from the ceiling. Most of the shop floor was taken up by a vast counter, behind which rows of jars and bottles glinted on the shelves. A girl jumped up from behind the counter front as they entered, startled. Judging by the array of half made bundles of herbs sprawled across the surface, they'd caught her slacking off.
The girl said something in a language Jordan didn't understand. Judging by her dark hair and amber eyes she was of Varthian descent, though she was paler than Vek or Usk or Soli had been, and her teeth didn't look like they had ever been filed.
"Common," Yddris replied. He leaned on the counter, keeping the money bag out of view as he pretended to peruse the shelves. "Do you stock Mary-Beth?"
The girl's expression faded into uncertainty. "I'm not allowed to sell it."
"Is there someone here who is? I'm in a hurry, I'm afraid."
The girl only hesitated for another moment before gesturing for them to wait. She disappeared into the back room.
"This is a Varthian apothecary," Yddris said over his shoulder, "For future reference. They trade with the tribes. If you can't find something anywhere else, try here."
The girl emerged from the back room trailing a middle-aged woman who scowled at them as she rearranged her sleep-mussed hair. The girl said something to her in the language Jordan didn't know, and the woman's irritation faded to suspicion. She replied. Her voice was sharp and loud.
"She wants to know who you're buying for," the girl said.
"An old friend," Yddris said. "And I'm much too old to have friends any younger than their third decade, as I'm sure you can tell."
The woman seemed unamused by the joke, but the answer seemed satisfactory. She bustled to the far end of the shelves and hefted down a large ceramic jar. She barked something at the girl.
"She won't sell more than a cupful," the girl translated.
"Tell her that I'm grateful for her generosity."
The woman seemed mollified by this, and the rest of the transaction passed without any shouting. Jordan didn't get much of a good look at the rest of the shop as he was ushered out by Yddris, but he was sure some of the jars contained pickled animals. The two women watched them go with suspicion, and it was almost a relief to leave.
Until they found Usk waiting at the end of the lane, that was.
Jordan's heart dropped into his bowels. He made himself stay rooted to the spot even as every instinct told him to run.
"Well met," Yddris said evenly.
"That does not belong to you," Usk growled. He took a few steps closer, but still hung back out Yddris's reach.
"Never said it did," Yddris replied, equally careful. He put the money on the ground and placed the bag of Mary-Beth on top of it before stepping away.
"The boy will come back with me," Usk said firmly. He made no move to take either bag.
"Under his own volition, he will. If I find out you've laid a finger on him, you'll leave with more than a surface wound this time," Yddris growled. "Don't underestimate how much I know about your friend's little operations."
"Is that a threat?"
"I don't make threats." Yddris struck up another pipe. "I don't make jokes, either. I make promises. I am not fucking around when I say that your employer will find out about all of it if my apprentice returns tonight with a single scratch."
Usk's lip curled, but he nodded.
"You're leaving?" Jordan asked. He hadn't registered what Yddris had meant back in the courtyard, but surely he couldn't mean...
"You agreed to this, boy, " Yddris muttered. "Follow through and take the consequences. I'll come and collect you."
"I will bring him to the quarter border," Usk said. "You come no further."
"You have my word if I have yours."
Usk scowled but nodded. "You have it."
Yddris clapped Jordan on the shoulder and walked away amid a cloud of pipe smoke. Ren whined in Jordan's ear as he watched his tutor go. He almost didn't dare turn to look at Usk, and wouldn't have if he wasn't still half-convinced he'd find a knife between his ribs if he didn't.
The brute's expression was stony. He had picked up the bag of money and hefted it over one shoulder and stored the drug away somewhere Jordan couldn't see it.
"Did you tell him to come?" he demanded, nodding in Yddris's direction. The Unspoken had already vanished into the blackness.
"No. B-but he can sense my magic. If I lose control." Jordan willed his voice to stop shaking, but all he wanted to do was lie down and weep. "We were cornered by wights."
Usk sneered. "I saw. Would have been impressive if you meant to do it." He cocked his head. "I won't tell Arlen he was involved if you keep your pretty little mouth shut, too. He won't take it kindly."
Jordan blinked. "You're not going to tell him?"
"I want to keep my balls," Usk said simply. He began to walk away, and Jordan hurried to keep up. "And you get to keep yours, too, because the other brat isn't dead. On balance, what he doesn't know won't piss him off." A sharp-toothed grin loomed at Jordan through the gloom. "You understand me?"
"Won't Darin tell him?"
"Psh. Too proud. And no one with more sense than a pile of rocks will ever tell a Devil what they're scared of."
Jordan's throat tightened when he realised Usk had a point; he'd scared Darin. People were scared of him, and they had good reason to be. He'd almost killed someone by accident. Who would it be if he lost control again? If Yddris wasn't there?
He thought of Grace. He thought of Laurel, and Killian, and the children after the fleshmonger attack. He clenched his fists. Magic surged around his body like an electric circuit, and within that current were a million chances to cause harm.
Fuck you, he thought, unsure what or whom he was directing it to, Fuck you for everything.
He barely remembered the rest of the journey back to Arlen's rooms. His thoughts were a torturous loop of the moment he let the fire loose, that feeling of release followed by the panic of realising he couldn't stop it. His throat was scorched raw by bile and magic. He didn't remember it coming out of his mouth, but his tongue felt blistered and sore, and every swallow became more difficult. His head throbbed, pain pressing against his eyes. He couldn't remember what it felt like to be cold, and what it felt like to not be in pain.
Arlen wasn't sitting where they'd left him. Another man, barely more than a boy, had taken his seat and was methodically counting coins onto the table. Jordan thought he recognised the boy from somewhere, but his mind was too foggy to dredge it up. He was pale, with wispy white hair and pale eyes, and he couldn't have been much older than seventeen or eighteen, though his face was drawn and miserable and added several years to his appearance. He looked up as they climbed in, acknowledging Usk with only a glance. For a moment he didn't notice Jordan, but then his head snapped back up, nostrils flaring.
"Is that him?" he demanded, voice more shrill than Jordan had been expecting. "The miracle kid Arlen keeps harping on about? Is that him?"
Jordan didn't know the boy from Adam, couldn't remember where he'd seen him for the life of him, and was stunned by the venom in the other boy's glare. He paused just inside the window, surprised into stupidity, and barely had the sense to be alarmed when a knife appeared in the boy's hand.
"Think on, little man," Usk said, chuckling. "I just saw this miracle kid torch four bone wights to death without his tutor's help."
The knife lowered. Before anyone could say anything else, the door on the far side of the room swung open and Arlen limped out. He scowled like a thundercloud at the boy with the pale hair.
"The fuck are you doing here?"
The boy jabbed a finger in Jordan's direction. "Me? I'm your responsibility. What's he doing here?"
Arlen's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before the scowl settled back in. "Paying in a favour owed. You're not too dense to remember how things work around here, are you?"
The boy flushed. "No, I..."
"If you're about to spout some shitbrained idea that you're starting a brawl, kid, I'll let Usk throw you out the window and you can share it with the pavement." Arlen's glower switched to Jordan, who flinched. He had a feeling that Arlen was only standing as a point of pride. He didn't know how he could tell that Arlen was in immense pain, but he could read it in the air around the man, from that single glance. Jordan glanced at the leg; the fresh bandages the assassin had had on when he arrived that evening were already brown with dried blood. Arlen cleared his throat. His gaze had sharpened in warning. Jordan resolved not to look at the leg again.
"Did you get the other thing?" Arlen demanded as Usk dumped the sack of money on the table, scattering the boy's coin piles. A single silver coin rolled along the floor to stop next to Jordan's foot, but any inclination to pick it up and put it back was killed stone cold at the venomous glare he received from its owner. He couldn't begin to guess what he'd done wrong.
"He did." Usk produced the sack of Mary-Beth from inside the lining of his jerkin.
"Good." Arlen appraised Jordan for a moment, then picked up a gold coin from the table and flicked it across the room. Jordan caught it with the tips of his fingers. It was heavy and solid, the approximate size of a tea saucer. Jordan had never seen one before. "Don't start whining, boy, I'll get another one out when I can be arsed."
Jordan looked up when Arlen snapped, and the pale boy's glare had doubled. He was only relieved it was directed at Arlen and not him this time.
"Does this mean I can go?" he asked hesitantly.
Arlen grinned, but it wasn't at all friendly. "Off so soon?"
Jordan tried not to glance at Usk. "My tutor will wonder where I am."
Arlen's lip curled. "Go on, then. But don't think Marick won't be catching up with you soon."
Jordan turned to the window, eager for the night to be over, but the pale boy grasped his arm.
"You won't get it," he hissed. Jordan tried to pull free, but frail as the boy looked, his grip was strong. "It's going to be mine. And if you try and take this from me, I'll kill you."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Jordan said, wresting himself loose and backing towards the window.
"Knock it off, Silas," Arlen's voice growled behind them. Silas looked away, and while he was distracted Jordan clambered down the makeshift stairs and ran. He was dimly aware of Usk following him, the brute keeping up with ease despite his size, but he didn't stop running until he reached the bridge where Yddris waited, pipe billowing smoke, on the far side.
Far behind him, clear as day through the panic and blood rushing in his ears, Usk laughed.