Angelfire | The Whispering Wall #3

Fifty Two: Unexpected Guest

"Am I the only one in this house with any sense of urgency?"

Nika burst through the back door in a swirl of black cloth and crackling static, so that Jordan jumped and almost dropped his cigarette. Yddris barely reacted.

"No, Nika, you're the only one in this house who's panicking."

"Panicking?" Nika demanded, as Jordan winced. "We have two days left until a three-month minimumexpedition, Yddris, and all you've packed so far are some knives and spare breeches."

"A man can go far with some knives and a change of underwear." The Unspoken took a long swig from his whisky bottle. "Not all of us are taking half a Medica."

"I also seem to have ended up in charge of food and two man-children who are getting high instead of making some dark-damned decisions," Nika snapped, then turned on his heel and disappeared back inside. As he went, he threw back, "I hope you're packing more than blackweed, Thorne!"

"I've packed half my stuff," Jordan protested, but it fell on deaf ears. He stubbed his cigarette out on the bench with a guilty grimace.

He had packed most of what he needed. All that was left were the things he had to take and didn't want to; all his assassin's kit, his lockpicks and throwing blades and the selection of vials containing horrible substances that Raziel had given to him over the months. Nika knew about Jordan's double life, but when he inevitably ended up checking Jordan's bags in a fit of caring paranoia, Jordan really didn't want the Unspoken encountering his significant poison collection or a stiletto blade. He planned to hide it all away in various places right at the last minute.

"You're going to give him a brain bleed," Jordan said, to distract himself from following that spiral. Many of the Unspoken going were nervous about the final destination, but seemed to be quite looking forward to the journey as a break from routine. All of the other Unspoken, however, weren't going to be spending half the trip watching for assassins and the other half worrying about their sister carrying the next Lord bloody Harkenn.

"He's going to give himself a brain bleed," Yddris grumbled. "Let me enjoy the fact that he's too preoccupied with how hopeless I am at packing to remember he can't stand me at the moment."

Yddris seemed to be more enthused about the trip than Jordan was. Though he was just as outwardly sarcastic and dour as ever, he'd been more present over the previous days, more willing to pass empty time keeping Jordan company. It only made him wish they were going back to the Guildtown again, instead of evaluating how close they were to a Caelum-induced Armageddon.

"You are taking more than pants and knives though, aren't you?"

"Don't you fucking start, boy."

"Maybe some potatoes in case you get hungry and no one else is cooking."

His tutor glared at him. "You're getting to be a right sassy little fucker, you are. Too much time with Blackheart's rabble."

"Oh, come off it." Jordan scowled, then snorted as a thought crossed his mind. "Arlen wouldn't even take the pants."

Yddris laughed. "Don't say that to him, will you, I want to take you on this trip in one piece." He muttered over the rim of his bottle, "Smelly bastard."

Jordan choked on his next breath.

He had sobered by the time he returned to his room and surveyed the chaos spread over the desk and the floor. He really should finish packing; there was still Harkenn's last meeting to go to the next day, and both Marick and Arlen wanted final briefings before he left. He was barely going to sleep as it was, without having to get up at the crack of dawn on the day of departure to finish packing.