Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1

Twenty Eight: Homesick

"If you can't concentrate with her in the room, Jordan, you're going to have to put her out."

Koen snorted as Jordan looked up at Nika, cheeks heating, and then back to the work spread out in front of him. Ren continued to roll around under the paper Jordan's cloak had come wrapped in, making rustling noises and squeaking.

He scowled. His studies of written Nictavian weren't going well; he had never been a natural at languages and it was showing. He'd been trying to write the alphabet for hours, but every time he tried there was something wrong with it, some line out of place or a missed letter. Hap was out on a job, and Nika was presiding over both Koen and Jordan's studies in his absence. Jordan wouldn't have minded if he hadn't become very quickly aware of how little Koen needed correcting on his work, which was much more advanced than the alphabet.

Deflated, sore from sitting on the floor for so long, he felt he'd at least earned the right to a break, but Nika had picked up on it the moment his mind wandered.

"I'm no good at this," he protested. "I've been trying for hours."

"Do you want to learn it or not?"

"Yes." Though he was having second thoughts at this stage – only Arlen's note kept him from lobbing his work across the room.

Nika sighed. "Once more, and we'll pick it up again tomorrow."

"Can I pee first?"

Nika chuckled. "That depends on if you plan on coming back."

Jordan was already getting to his feet. "Don't give me ideas."

He escaped through the corridor to the back of the house. Yddris's toilet was a bucket in the yard, but unlike the inn, it had all the Nictavian mod cons – a little shed, complete with a roof and a plank of wood with a hole in it to sit on. It smelled exactly like one might expect an old privy shed to smell. Though Yddris inhabited the house infrequently, the privy had history, and Jordan emerged with watering eyes moments later. Blinking and wiping them on his tunic, he went to the only other piece of furniture outside, a stone bench that was covered in greyish algae, and sat down.

Wind whistled through the eaves of the house. It was light enough outside that it didn't carry the screams of demons on it, but the daylight hours were becoming so short that it wouldn't be long before it did. Most nights it kept Jordan awake, and when he did sleep he dreamed about demons. The pounding in his skull was a constant companion, reminding him endlessly that he was supposed to kill those massive, deadly creatures that howled and screamed at night. That he might someday be the only thing between life and death, someone's only hope of survival.

He had never thought he would think with longing of that checkout job back home in Oxford, where the worst he had to contend with was crowds. He thought of sunny days in the city centre, swarming with tourists, and couldn't help comparing it to the chilly greyness of Shadow's Reach, couldn't help a pang of homesickness so strong it winded him.

"You alright, boy?"

He jumped, viciously scrubbing at the tears on his face and glowering at the ground as Yddris sauntered out of the house, blowing out a long column of smoke. The Unspoken sat down on the bench beside him with a heavy sigh.

"Didn't know you were back," Jordan muttered, sniffing.

"Just got here," Yddris replied. "Nika told me you were taking a suspiciously long piss so I thought I'd check on you."

"It's not cuz I'm shit at writing," Jordan said abruptly.

"What isn't?"

Jordan's face heated. "Why I'm out here." He shrugged. "Even though I am. Shit at writing, I mean."