Nightsworn | The Whispering Wall #2

Fifteen: First Meeting

"Where is he?" Arlen snapped, limping to the window and peering out into the drizzle. There was still no sign of Haverford, and if they were late to his first meeting with the guild, Arlen was for it.

Marick had surprised him with the request; the boy was nowhere near ready by Arlen's estimations. He had expected to have a few months to get him prepared, and now it appeared he'd have the length of time it took to reach the beer hall by carriage – and that was if the kid showed up at all.

If he'd been able-bodied, Arlen would have gone out for the boy himself; Jesper was too nervy to hang around the witch-man's place. He'd almost refused to run the message at all, and Arlen owed him several pints for the trouble of that, let alone ensuring he got to the quarter in time. If Marick had only given more notice...

A dark figure appeared at the mouth of the alley, and Arlen's chest eased when the distinctive cut of an Unspoken cloak was briefly outlined in the light of a street lamp.

"That him?" Usk grunted through a cloud of blackweed, noting the change.

"Finally." Arlen limped back inside and shoved his hunting knife into his belt. "We'll make it. Just about."

Haverford clambered inside a moment later, breathing hard. "Am I late?" he gasped.

"Scraped in by the skin of your teeth," Usk said, as Arlen scowled at him. "Get changed, kid, carriage will be here any minute."

"Why do we need...oh." Jordan quailed under Arlen's glower and hurried to the corner where he kept his change of clothes.

Arlen glared at the back of his head. "What was the hold-up?"

"Wasn't expecting it," Jordan muttered. "Didn't have time to plan a good excuse for going out."

"So what did you do?"

Jordan's shoulders stiffened. "I got out over the courtyard fence. My tutors are going to skin me alive when I get back."

"Risky," Usk rumbled.

"Not as risky as trying to lie," Jordan snapped, the evening clearly wearing on him already. For once, Arlen decided to let it slide. Marick had blindsided both of them – it was hardly the boy's fault, and the less he added to the stress, the better. "If I'd asked first, I'd never have been allowed to leave."

He finished dressing and turned around as he was pulling his scarf over his face. Before he flipped up his hood, Arlen noted that the kid looked like shit; his green eyes glowed like coals in dark hollows, skin pale and drawn. A bruise was fading on his temple. There was a wild, almost desperate look to him. He'd seen looks like that on guild members who were starting to crack, and experienced a flicker of alarm. The boy was definitely nowhere near ready to meet the guild; he had a lot of toughening up to do before then.

"You look like shit, kid," Arlen muttered. "And coming from a guy who recently lost half a leg, that's even less of a compliment."

"Wonder why," Jordan replied, but without enough heat to be considered impertinent. He pulled on his gloves and spread his hands in a shrug. "Are we going, then?"

As if on cue, the carriage rumbled to a stop in the street outside. With a lingering look at Jordan, Usk crossed the room and climbed out first, reaching back in to take Arlen's walking stick. They had reconfigured the crates to make it a simpler climb, but it was still slow going and Arlen had broken into a light sweat by the time he reached the cobbles. Scowling, he took back his walking stick and limped to the carriage, and the driver opened the door just before he reached it like he was some sort of invalid.

"Catch you there, Arl," Usk grunted. The giant melted into the shadows and was gone.

"Do I...?" Jordan began, but stopped when Arlen gestured impatiently at the open door.