First Interlude - Alive or Dead

Jean had a feeling the Nageling Marauders wouldn’t be very pleased to see him, and he was right. When he finally tracked them down to a quiet corner of the Commons, not far from the College of Dynamics, they first did their best to ignore him, then to see him off as though he was a pesky insect.

It wasn’t the big charr who confronted him, at least; that one was so intimidating that Jean probably would have given up. Instead, it was one of the norn, a woman with braided hair and a surly expression. She had her arms folded, a large leopard slinking around her legs, occasionally baring its teeth.

“We heard your message,” she said, “and we’re not interested.”

Message? It took Jean a moment to place her meaning: Marissa’s admonishment over the communications device, to choose their allies more carefully next time. Jean had warned her against making it, but as usual, his sister hadn’t listened.

“I’m not here to make a deal,” Jean said. He’d thought he could stand up to the ranger, but the way she loomed over him was starting to make him nervous. “I just want to see Vasha.”

“Well, she doesn’t want to see you, so you’d better be on your way.”

Before he could gauge whether the norn was lying, Jean heard another voice. “It’s all right, Gull. I’ll speak to him.”

Vasha stepped from the shadows. The norn studied her for a moment, looking disgruntled and oddly protective, then shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

With a silent gesture, Vasha moved away from her team, and Jean followed. She wove a path away from the Commons and the noisy crowd still gathered there, taking a ramp down into the dark bowels of the city. It was cool on the levels below, and smelled of running water and the sharp tang of magic.

Jean was more interested in Vasha, though. Her expression was closed and impossible to read, her posture tense but not anxious. She didn’t even look at him until they stepped onto a quieter concourse.

“What do you want, Jean?”

The question made him flinch. Their entire relationship and everything they’d had together, reduced to a single, stark demand… At least, that was how it felt. Jean was beginning to wonder if Vasha had ever felt anything for him at all.

“I wanted to see how you were,” he said carefully.

Vasha tossed her head, a gesture that looked curiously like one of Marissa’s. “No, you didn’t. You wanted to talk about the past.”

“So what if I did?” Jean tried to keep the defensive note out of his voice, but Vasha wasn’t making it easy. Maybe meeting with her had been a mistake, and yet… He couldn’t let this go so easily. “You walked away, Vasha. I didn’t even know if you were alive or dead.”

“Did you care?” Vasha shot back. Before he could answer, she went on, “That was two years ago. Why drag up the past now?”

“It doesn’t feel like the past to me. You’re here, I’m here, and…”

There was a challenge in Vasha’s eyes. “And what? You think we’re ever going to be anything but enemies?”

“Opponents,” Jean corrected; he couldn’t bear to think of Vasha as an enemy. “Is that really all we have left?”

Vasha didn’t reply. She’d folded her arms; now she looked like the norn, Gull. It was as though she didn’t have any of her own mannerisms left, and she’d borrowed others to… To what? To become someone else?

“If you really want to talk about the past,” Vasha said finally, “maybe you should apologise.”

Jean stared at her, nonplussed. Apologise? For what? Two years ago, he’d thought they had a future together, that they could make something of their lives in Divinity’s Reach, and then… She’d left, without word or warning.

He didn’t say it aloud, but it was clear Vasha could read his confusion. When she spoke, her voice had risen. “You don’t even know what you did.”

That sounded like a dangerous thing to admit to, but Vasha was right. He was certain he hadn’t done anything to drive her away – and yet she didn’t seem to agree. “Why don’t you tell me?”

She didn’t quite stamp her foot, but her eyes blazed. Vasha had always been twice as beautiful when she was angry, but now Jean found himself feeling almost nervous. The Marauders had taught her well; she looked like she was ready to strangle him.

“I can’t believe this,” Vasha said, clearly struggling to keep her anger in check. “If you don’t know what went wrong, I’m not going to explain it to you. Figure it out for yourself.”

She stalked off before Jean could reply, leaving him staring at the empty concourse. Distantly, he could hear someone calling his name; Auri, perhaps, wondering where he’d gone. It wouldn’t be long before the next stage of the competition began.

All Jean could think about was Vasha, though. It had was clear that he’d hurt her so badly she’d fled Divinity’s Reach and not reappeared for two whole years. His chest ached with the thought of it; he’d never, ever wanted to do her harm. And yet, worst of all was the utter bewilderment he felt. Vasha had run, and she blamed him… And Jean didn’t have the faintest idea why.