Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1

Nine: Demon's Brew

Yddris didn't speak to him again. Several times, Jordan contemplated saying something, but didn't know what or why he even wanted to. The Unspoken was only marginally taller than he was, but seemed much bigger in the silence. He hadn't realised how much he relied on seeing a face.

The streets they walked down were long and winding, lined with brightly-lit shops selling all manner of things. There were bakeries and tailors, grocers, butchers and apothecaries. The occasional shop filled from floor to ceiling with books, vials and other oddments. For the most part, shoppers left them alone aside from the occasional glance, and judging by their attire and the fact that no one was pissing in full view of the street Jordan gathered that this was a more upmarket part of the city. Occasionally he would pass a door that let out a warm gust of air and shuddered, longing for a fire to sit beside so he knew what his nose and fingers felt like again.

"Where are we?" he finally asked, cringing as his voice cut through the quiet. He glanced nervously down a darkened alley as they passed it and drew closer to Yddris as the ghosting sensation of a cold blade tingled on his throat.

"Merchants' Quarter," Yddris replied, and to Jordan's relief he didn't move away. "The main shopping district, for future reference. Are you hungry?"

Jordan hurried to catch up to him. "Starving."

"I believe that to be a slight exaggeration," the Unspoken muttered, but nudged him towards the door of a nearby shop. "In there."

Jordan stepped into a halo of candlelight. The room beyond was warmly lit and filled with cushioned benches, and against the far wall was a long counter of food. Through a small doorway in the back corner Jordan heard the hiss of something frying, and his mouth watered at the smell of meat. The thin gruel he and Grace had been given in the dungeons left a lot to be desired.

"I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark and guess that you don't know what any of that is," Yddris muttered, gesturing to the counter, "So you'll have to just trust me on this one."

Jordan scanned the counter. Yddris was right. Some of the food was vaguely recognisable, but he wouldn't have put any money on naming it. He eyed a small pile of blood-coloured fruits lying in a puddle of dark juice at one end and frowned. "I don't think I want any of whatever those are."

"They taste as good as they look," Yddris said with a chuckle, and rapped on a nearby table.

A very tall man emerged from the doorway, face splitting into a grin when he saw Yddris. His skin was weathered and laced with scars and tattoos over bulging muscles, and his eyes were an unnerving shade of yellow. Jordan realised with a start that what he had at first glance taken for wonky teeth were actually filed sharp, and took an involuntary step backwards. The movement drew the man's eye.

"You've been busy, Yddris," he said, in a thick accent Jordan could barely understand. "Been hunting otherworlders, ay?"

"I'm babysitting," Yddris replied. The man growled a laugh and fixed Jordan with a beady stare.

"He's small."

A protest rose and died in Jordan's throat and prompted another terrifying laugh.

"This is Vek," Yddris said to Jordan.

"Short for Vekrathnelariniel," the man added, grinning, "But I don't mind if you use Vek."

Jordan nodded, eyes wide, as Vek shuffled his enormous frame behind the counter. On such a huge man, the little white apron tied around his waist seemed out of place.

"Just the one, Vek," Yddris said, as Vek picked up two enormous knives and began to rub them together. The sound made Jordan cringe. "In a hurry today."