Chapter 4: Part 7 - A Mutual Friend

Jean hadn't thought it was possible for anywhere to be more desolate than Malchor's Leap. Cursed Shore, though, seemed determined to prove him wrong.

The sky was steel grey overhead and the ground a dusty ochre. There seemed little variation in those two shades for miles in every direction. At least the region was inhabited, after a fashion. They'd barely reached the foot of the pass from Malchor's Leap when Oska pointed out the camp lying ahead of them.

"Caer Shadowfain," he said. "If we're going to rest anywhere, it might as well be there."

Jean knew he was right, but that didn't make the camp any less forbidding. It was ringed by high walls, thick loops of thorned vines on the outside and rusting turrets at the corners. Some sort of huge organic structure loomed over the place, too, a cross between a piece of marooned, rotting coral and a mutated shell. Jean supposed it had been there long enough that it was unlikely to collapse and crush them all. Probably.

At least they could all have a chance to rest. Oska and Auri both looked grubby and tired; even Marissa was now as dishevelled as an ordinary traveller. Jean couldn't remember the last time any of them had snatched more than a few minutes of sleep. At the last camp in Malchor's Leap, Marissa had given them long enough to buy a few supplies, then insisted they move on.

Now, though, her urgency had faded; she'd even suggested they stop to admire the view from the top of Pursuit Pass. She surveyed Caer Shadowfain with apparent satisfaction. "I never knew the Pact were so ingenious."

Jean was on the verge of agreeing when he realised that sounded suspiciously like a compliment, and he couldn't remember the last time his sister had complimented anyone or anything. In fact, Marissa had been in a remarkably good mood ever since they'd left Malchor's Leap. He'd thought she was anxious about being here, perhaps even scared; now he wondered how he'd managed to read her mood so inaccurately.

"Looks like we're the first ones here," he said, because that was the only reason he could find for Marissa's good humour. They hadn't seen any other teams since arriving in Orr, which he supposed was a good thing.

"I'm sure the other teams aren't far behind," Marissa replied, though she didn't sound vexed by the prospect. "We don't know what guidance Yinn will have given them."

Guidance? That was one word for it. "I suppose you've solved the next clue."

Much more characteristically, Marissa had been cagey about the clue they'd acquired from the shrine; whatever she knew, she was keeping it to herself. Now, she favoured Jean with a knowing look. "Of course, but that's of little concern now."

"It isn't?" Jean stared at her in surprise – and went on staring, as Marissa turned on her heel and stalked off in the direction of the camp's merchant.

Jean almost followed, then thought better of it. He'd had enough of trying to interpret Marissa's mercurial moods. Perhaps he could get more sense out of someone else.

He found Oska having his daggers sharpened, the sound of their blades against the spinning whetstone loud enough to make his teeth ache. Jean waited until Oska took a few steps away from the armoursmith, and still he lowered his voice before he spoke. "I don't suppose you know what's going on?"

"With Marissa?" Oska considered the question. "She received a message, before we left Malchor's Leap."

"What? Who from?"

"No idea. I was hoping to find out before I told you, but..."

But Marissa was being more secretive than ever. Jean had once tried to read her diary when he was eight and she was twelve, only to find she'd written it in impenetrable code. She'd had a lot of years since then to perfect her ability to keep a secret.

"Do you want me to look into it?"

Jean glanced at Oska, whose blue-green eyes were serious. A little too serious, in fact. He had the look of someone who'd be quite prepared to stick a dagger in someone's spine, if he thought it necessary – even if that someone was his older cousin.

Jean sighed and dragged a hand over his face. The last thing he needed to do was start pitting his family against one another. What he needed was perspective – and sleep.

"Leave Marissa alone for now," he said. "Let's not make her suspicious unless we have to. I'll... keep an eye on her."

It was weak, as plans went, but Oska nodded. Jean turned away, looking for somewhere to rest – and realised someone else was watching him.

They weren't being particularly subtle about it, either. The asura leaned against the camp wall, arms folded and gaze trained on Jean. Jean returned the stare until the asura nodded slowly. If that was a message, Jean wasn't sure what it was supposed to impart. He was almost too tired to care.

He was halfway across the camp when the asura fell into step beside him. Jean risked a glance behind them, but no-one was watching. They kept walking until they reached the strange coral wall and the asura pulled Jean into its shadow.

"I have a message for you. It's from our mutual friend."

It took Jean several heartbeats to put the pieces together. "Scholar Primm?"

"Keep your voice down," the asura hissed. He had one hand on the sword at his waist, Jean realised. Thankfully, there was no-one near enough to use it on.

"Sorry," Jean said. "It's just, I asked about Primm when I arrived in Malchor's Leap. It didn't sound like she'd ever been this way."

"She hasn't," the asura said. "What difference do you think that makes to the Order of Whispers?"

None at all, Jean supposed. If Primm wanted to learn about something in Orr, or indeed pass on a message, an entire network of agents existed to aid her. She wouldn't even have to leave the Shiverpeaks.

"You'd better tell me this message, then."

The asura leaned back, though avoided touching the strange coral wall. "How much do you know about Yinn's employees?"

"Almost nothing," Jean said, though he thought of Floxx in the snows of Lornar's Pass. "Well, perhaps more than the other teams know."

"It's taking a whole army to run this game," the asura said, folding his arms. "Half of Rata Sum has been involved, one way or another."

Jean nodded slowly. The inhabitants of Rata Sum had clearly known about the game, from Yinn's initial announcement onward. It made sense for Yinn to hire them – but why bring this up now?

The asura could clearly see Jean's impatience. "You need to understand the context, yes?"

Context? For a secret message? How like an asura.

"The game's got too big," the asura went on. "Yinn has involved too many people. Not all of them are loyal."

Now they were getting somewhere. "What are you suggesting? That we could bribe Yinn's people into doing something for us?"

The asura threw up his hands. "No. I'm telling you someone already has."

Oh. Oh no. Finally, Jean could see why this was important, why Primm had sent this message rather than just dealing with Yinn herself. This 'someone' who'd been bribing Yinn's staff for unspecified ends? It could only be Marissa.

Jean rubbed his temples again. "Thank you. I understand perfectly." Although how he wished he didn't.

There was nothing else for it. As the asura excused himself, Jean turned to survey the camp. Marissa was over by the far wall. At a distance, she appeared to have her eyes closed, but Jean would have sworn she'd been watching him.

He strode across the camp, with only the briefest of glances to check no-one was nearby. "Been emptying the family coffers, have you?"

Marissa opened one eye. The lower half of her face was in shadow, but Jean thought she was smiling. "Have you ever known me to be profligate? I only spend money when it's necessary."

Yes, those necessities like eight new ballgowns and matching shoes for a single party. Jean remembered plenty of those when they were younger. He didn't care about the money, though. "What are you doing, Marissa? How many of Yinn's staff have you paid off?"

"As I said, only as many as necessary."

"Necessary for what?"

Marissa continued to smile. She hadn't, Jean noted, asked where he'd got his information from. Perhaps he hadn't been as subtle as he thought and she knew all about Primm; perhaps she simply didn't care.

"You don't think Yinn's going to notice you're bribing his staff?" Jean asked.

"Oh, he's going to notice." Marissa got to her feet, giving a feline stretch. "It wouldn't be any fun if he didn't."

A helpless sensation rose in Jean's chest. It felt like anxiety, and bewilderment, and the beginnings of panic.

Marissa took a step towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder. It wasn't even faintly reassuring. "Don't worry, little brother. One way or another, this game is coming to its end. Before it does, Yinn's going to get... Let's call it 'a taste of his own medicine'."

Jean pulled back, out of Marissa's reach. Yes, the game was coming to an end, but he couldn't let it happen on Marissa's terms. The other teams were still out there – and that included Vasha.