Angelfire | The Whispering Wall #3

Sixty Six: A Stand-Off

Arlen didn't think he'd ever heard a louder silence.

Marick looked untroubled by it, though his relaxed expression and loose stance were undoubtedly a ruse. He looked around the small front room of the boarding house as if this was merely a friendly catch-up, as if they wouldn't smell the smoke from Arlen's burning house if they set foot outside the door.

"Cosy," he said.

"Why don't we just cut the demonshit," Arlen replied. He wanted nothing more than for this to be over. He needed to make plans. Clearly they couldn't use this place anymore, and he wanted a head-start on finding another. He didn't want to hear whatever trite explanation Marick trotted out for what he'd done, because there wasn't one that changed their situation in the slightest.

Marick smiled, but Arlen's emotions remained frozen over. All the rage had fled him at the sight of Marick at the boarding house door, replaced with a cold-burning hatred that was far more productive. He was at least glad to stop with the pretences.

"May we sit?" His gesture towards the small table and stools somehow managed to look disdainful.

Arlen glanced at Usk, who moved subtly to stand in front of the door into the corridor with his arms crossed, brow dark. Arlen didn't know for certain that Ashe and Raziel were still here with the captive, but he wasn't taking any chances.

He sat when Marick did, propping his walking stick between his knees.

"I'm afraid that Ilan has got it into his head that you have a Caelumese captive," Marick said, lacing his fingers in front of him. Arlen worked to keep any emotion from showing on his face. He didn't want to think of that sneering Angel's smug face when he'd revealed himself in Marick's office, fully capable of seeing how it affected him despite Arlen's best efforts. Marick had put him in that position knowing what it would do. And for that Arlen would not give an inch of ground.

"Has he?" He flexed his fingers. "I suppose you're about to tell me that burning my house was all his idea, that he acted without your prior knowledge and you were completely oblivious to the fact that he wasn't where you expected him to be and he'd likely used your own supplies to set the fire?"

Marick leaned back in his seat. "I came for a productive conversation, Arlen."

"And I'm hoping for one." He didn't relax even a little. "Which is why I did you the courtesy of getting the excuses out of the way. I know you're a busy man."

He sensed Usk tense behind him as Marick slid his hands from the table. "What do you want from this? Let's be transparent."

Arlen stared. He couldn't quite believe Marick was turning this around on him.

"Transparency? You want transparency from me?" He scoffed. "You've not done me that courtesy for months now. I don't know what you want with my apprentice. I don't know what you want from Caelum. I don't know what you want from me." His fury began to thaw and burn again, seeping into his voice despite his efforts to control it. "You've made it clear that you fully intend to work with them despite my warnings, and I in turn have drawn my lines in the sand. So what is this, exactly?" He gestured between them. "What can we possibly say here that will change what's already happened?"

To anyone else, Marick's stare would seem bland. To Arlen, who had served at his right hand for years, knew he was being weighed up.

"As it happens," he said slowly, "it was Ilan who ordered your house burned. He paid the price for it, as the significant stash of explosives in your cellar have gifted him several months' of wing feather regrowth. I warned him against the move, but didn't tell him about the explosives. It never hurts to remind a partner why they came to you and not the other way around."