Chapter 1: Part 4 - Too Late for Apologies

Spiders. Jean hated spiders, and they’d had to cut their way through a nest of the hideous creatures to reach their prize. All that, and no-one even seemed to know what it was.

The twins were now sat in the grass, playing one of their ‘games’, which mostly involved staring silently at one another, communicating without words. Honestly, Jean loved them dearly, as only family could, but the pair of them were most unsettling.

He picked bits of sticky cobweb off his robes as Marissa turned the device over and over in her hands. It had been actually inside a giant spider’s egg, and of course Jean had drawn the short straw, being the one nominated to slice through it with one of Oska’s daggers. He assumed the egg wasn’t real – how could the device have been hidden inside it otherwise? – but someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make it convincing, and even more trouble to make it disgusting. He still had traces of something unspeakable under his fingernails.

Whatever the device was, it was in two parts. The small, slender piece was now in Marissa’s pocket. It looked like nothing more than a flat piece of metal, wedge-shaped with protruding spurs. Marissa hadn’t admitted she had no idea what it was, but Jean had seen her frown. She said it was important, though, that there were traces of magic and meaning clinging to it. That sounded like rubbish to Jean, but he wasn’t going to argue. Bloody mesmers.

“It could be junk,” he said, gesturing to the box in Marissa’s hands. It was flimsy, and still covered in cobwebs. It looked more like something scrounged out of a skritt’s nest than part of Yinn’s illustrious treasure hunt.

“We haven’t gone to all that trouble for junk,” Marissa said, shaking the thing. It rattled.

“That’s because you didn’t go to any trouble,” Jean said, holding up one sticky hand. “Could we at least find a stream before we move on? I’d really like to wash–”

The box beeped. Lights flashed on one side, and it made a noise like rustling paper. Marissa would never do anything as undignified as yelp, but Jean saw her jump.

And suddenly, there was a voice. “Hello?”

It was tinny and broken, but Jean knew that voice in an instant. He’d dreamed about it, even. He grabbed the device from Marissa’s hands, but it had gone silent and dead once again.

Marissa folded her arms, and Jean knew he should have asked first, and definitely shouldn’t have looked so eager. She didn’t seem to have recognised Vasha’s voice, though. “Well, go on then,” she said, exasperated and amused in equal measure. “If you think you can do a better job than I can, go ahead. Just don’t say anything stupid.”

“Or incriminating,” Oska piped up. Jean glared at him. He hadn’t even thought the twins were paying attention.

He turned his back on the others, studying the device more closely. A light flashed when he held a button on the side. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

There was an agonisingly long pause, and then Vasha’s voice, clearer this time. “My name is Vasha, of the Nageling Marauders. Who am I speaking to?”

Jean’s heart gave a painful lurch. It was really her, talking to him for the first time in two years – and she was pretending she didn’t know who he was. Was that for her team’s benefit? She wasn’t the type to pretend out of spite – perhaps she just didn’t want the rest of the Marauders to think she was consorting with their rivals.

He cleared his throat. “This is Jean Valpari, of the Valpari family. We retrieved this device from a spider’s nest on the west side of Metrica Province.”

“We cut this one out of the body of a drake,” Vasha said, with a touch of her old wry humour. She didn’t even hint at where she was, though. Somewhere by water, presumably; in Metrica, that didn’t help much.

“Are you willing to meet, to trade information?” Jean asked. His heart had sped to a gallop. The chance to see her again–

“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Vasha sounded cold again, and Jean winced. Maybe he was pushing just a bit too hard. Except…

“Why have we been given these devices, then?” he asked. “Yinn wants us to meet with the other teams.”

There was a long silence. Jean glanced at Marissa, who was listening to every word. She hadn’t intervened, though, so he must not have said anything… incriminating.

When Vasha finally spoke again, she sounded harried, and somewhat breathless. “You might be right – or these communications devices might be nothing more than a distraction.”

Well, she was certainly distracting. What Vasha was really implying, though, was that the little sliver of metal was the important bit, as Marissa had thought. If only they had the faintest idea what it was.

Marissa had turned away, and was speaking softly to the twins. Jean turned his back on her again, and took his chance. “Uh, Vasha, was it? Are you… alone?”

“I’m with my team,” Vasha replied – and then, more softly, “but I can talk, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Jean let out a long breath. After all this time, what was he supposed to say to her? It was too late for apologies, and he wasn’t even sure he was the one who should be apologising. “Vasha, I… It’s good to hear your voice again.”

He heard Vasha’s sigh, even through the speaker of the device. For just a moment, he could imagine her beside him, real and solid and warm. It was only an illusion, though, one that couldn’t last.

“I don’t think this is a good time, Jean.”

“Why not? Until we solve this puzzle, we’re not doing anything else.”

Another silence. Did that mean Vasha and her team had already solved it?

“It’s not just that,” Vasha said eventually. “We’re working against one another, Jean. We can’t both win this, and you can be sure the Marauders won’t back down. Besides, I… I’m not sure there’s anything to say.”

“We don’t have to talk about the game.” Jean knew he sounded desperate, and didn’t care. “Just tell me what you’ve been doing all this time. It’s been two years. I’ve…” Missed you. If he said that, though, would Vasha just run away again?

“Two years,” Vasha said, sounding distant, distracted. Suddenly, Jean understood just how long it was since they’d last seen one another. Her life could have changed so much in that time. Maybe she’d met someone else. “I’ve been working, Jean. That’s all. Some of us have to do that for a living, you know.”

He winced. The Divinity’s Reach street brat, and the nobleborn son. It was their very different lives that, in the end, had torn them apart.

“I understand that now,” Jean said. “I know how hard your life has been, and I know how much this hunt must mean to you. If there’s any way to see you again, though…”

Only silence greeted him. In fact, when he looked down at the device, it had stopped flashing and crackling altogether. Jean shook it, but there was only that rattling sound, as though wires had come loose inside. Not very promising.

Or so he tried to tell himself. Either the device was broken… Or Vasha had gone quiet because she had nothing else to say. That was a possibility he didn’t even want to think about.

He turned as the grass rustled behind him. It was Auri, and she looked up at him with her usual piercing gaze. “I always liked Vasha.”

Jean started. He glanced at Marissa, but she was looking the other way – almost as if Oska was distracting her deliberately. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said carefully.

“I haven’t been reading your thoughts. That’s Marissa’s job.” Auri looked down, at the tiny flames spinning in the palm of her hand, three of them circling in a complex pattern. “I heard you call her that, after she came for dinner. It suited her much better.”

Oh gods, the dinner. That had been the beginning of the end for… Well, for whatever their ‘relationship’ had been. Sometimes, Jean thought he’d dreamt every bit of it. When he looked back, Vasha – with her red hair and her grubby, calloused hands and her brazen honesty – didn’t seem real.

“I won’t tell Marissa,” Auri said. “But maybe you should.”

She turned and wandered back to the others, almost floating over the grass. Yes, maybe he should tell Marissa, though his stomach clenched at the thought. Like most of the family, she’d never liked Vasha. What would she do if she knew Jean had spoken to her again, right in the middle of the hunt – that Vasha was actually one of their rivals?

A dozen paces away, a twig snapped. Marissa gave a shout, and Jean rushed back to the others, drawing his scepter and focus. It was mesmer intuition that had warned Marissa of danger – it was another several heartbeats before Jean saw what threatened them.

On a small rise, a figure stepped out of the brush: a huge charr, scarred and one-eyed, his brindled fur making him almost invisible in the shadows. Two equally large norn, stood behind him, a white wolf and a snow leopard snarling at their feet. And behind, with the communications device still clutched in her first, was Vasha.

Marissa’s eyebrows rose and she shot a look at Jean. He shrugged, trying to look apologetic. He’d have to explain later – for now, they had bigger worries.

Like the fact the charr was pointing one clawed paw at them, looking every bit like he was in charge. “We want your piece of the key.”

Key? Was that what the little piece of flat metal was? If the Marauders knew that for certain, it was definitely Vasha who’d worked it out, not any of those hulking knuckleheads with her.

Marissa put her hands on her hips. It looked casual, but Jean knew she was reaching for her weapons and readying her magic. “And if we don’t give it to you?”

The charr’s face split into a grin, revealing fangs the length of Jean’s thumb. “Well. That would make things interesting, wouldn’t it?”