Chapter 4: Part 9 - A Higher Purpose
"We're all friends here."
Jean heard his sister's words with both disbelief and dismay. Disbelief, because whatever she was involved in appeared to have attracted the notice of Light's Memory – and dismay, because she sounded so damn jubilant about it. She now had an audience for her schemes; Marissa did always like recognition for her genius.
It was Amber who broke the stunned silence. "I'm not sure Yinn would agree."
"Oh, he won't come to any harm. He's just needs to... serve a higher purpose, one might say."
"By being kidnapped?"
Jean stared at Marissa in horror. Kidnapped? She wasn't denying it. Instead, she wore a satisfied sort of expression, calmer than Jean had seen her in days.
Amber abruptly turned on the two asura in the boat – one of whom, Jean realised, was the very same they'd ambushed outside the Priory. Floxx.
"And what are you doing here? You're supposed to be working for Yinn."
Floxx scowled at her. "Yes, and what an insult to my intelligence that turned out to be. Yinn is a respected member of the Rata Sum community – I didn't expect to spend weeks doing work more suitable for a human or a charr."
Beside the water, Roan gave a low growl.
Floxx ignored it. "I was, admittedly, wary of Ms. Valpari to begin with. It wasn't just our, er, conversation in Lornar's Pass. She was throwing a lot of money around, which is usually the sort of tactic employed by the Inquest."
"But you didn't care if you were getting paid?" Amber put in.
"This isn't about the money," Floxx snapped. "Ms. Valpari is, ah, practical. And clever. And yes, she pays well, but more importantly, she doesn't treat her staff like idiots."
"And you've rewarded my trust perfectly," Marissa said, with an expansive gesture towards the water. "Has everything gone to plan?"
Floxx bobbed his head. "Right on schedule."
"Not any more," Roan said, taking two heavy steps towards Marissa. "This has gone on long enough."
"It has," Amber added. "We're taking you back to Rata Sum–"
The flare of purple light was enough to make Jean throw his arm over his eyes. When it faded, there were a dozen Marissas, all armed and all looking furious. "You are not," she snapped; Jean couldn't say which of the figures had spoken. "I'm not about to let this plan fail now – and, in case you hadn't noticed, I'm not in the habit of surrendering."
There was a moment's tense silence. No-one else had yet armed themselves, but Jean could see they were only a heartbeat away from doing so. What was he supposed to do if this came to a fight? Help Marissa – or try to take her down?
He stepped forward before he could think better of it, coming within a foot of the nearest Marissa. "Don't do this, Marissa. We didn't come here to make enemies–"
All twelve Marissas whirled on him. "Didn't we? You don't even know what's going on here, Jean."
"No, I don't." Jean fought to keep his voice steady. "But I want to. You're my sister. I'll always help you – even if it means holding Yinn hostage."
"Jean is right, cousin," Oska said, from behind him. "We want to help, but we'd quite like to know why we're about to become wanted criminals."
Several of the Marissas evaporated into clouds of glowing butterflies – but not all. The rest were still glaring at Jean. "We're not criminals," she said, her voice brittle. "Nothing about this mess is desirable, but even the most reasonable woman can find her hand being forced."
"You were in the Priory," Erin said abruptly, her deep voice cutting through the tension. "I looked at the records. That's what this is all about?"
Two more of the Marissas disintegrated; a handful more wavered, until Jean thought he could see the real one, right in the middle. "I would have been quite happy to leave the Priory behind forever," she said stiffly. "I certainly didn't expect to find their hand in Yinn's game. I joined this contest for the thrill of it, like everyone else – and then what do I find but the name of a certain Archon attached behind the scenes. The very same Archon who almost got me killed."
Jean cleared his throat. His sister wasn't usually prone to exaggeration, and yet... "I know I've never been a member, but I'm sure the Durmand Priory has higher standards than–"
"No." Roan's growl cut him off. "That's just what they want you to think. The Priory looks organised and well-meaning from the outside, but it's all an act."
"Not always," Erin said, but even she looked uneasy.
"You're going to defend them? The Priory's far too good at making themselves look perfect, without ever fixing their mistakes. I was only a mercenary, but that's one of the reasons I stopped taking work from them." He turned back to Marissa. "I know what you're talking about. I was there, the day the recruits were brought back in. I didn't know–"
"That I was one of them?" Marissa said. "You wouldn't. The whole thing was a scandal. Every recruit who stayed in the Priory was paid to keep it quiet. The rest of us left as quickly as we could."
Involuntarily, Jean found himself remembering the day Marissa had returned from the Priory. He'd come home from school to find the house in an uproar, full of servants and suitcases. Marissa was in the middle of it all, gaunt and dishevelled, refusing to speak. She'd been bundled up to her room by their mother and hadn't emerged for a week.
And she'd never once spoken about what had happened. Somehow, even as a youth who was forever picking fights with his older sister, Jean had known never to tease her about that.
The remaining Marissas folded their arms, as though steeling themselves. "We were sent to Orr," she said. "Fifteen raw recruits on our very first mission. I found out later that there'd been some disagreement within the upper echelons of the Priory over whether the mission was a good idea, but Artair got his own way. He always did.
"Archon Artair. The most brilliant, daring Archon the Priory had had in years – and arrogant and reckless with it. Lyssa knows why anyone put him in charge of recruits. I'm sure he chose Orr personally; it makes my skin crawl, which means it's exactly the sort of place he'd find amusing. We were dumped on the coast with limited supplies and told to make our way south – without Artair himself, I might add.
"We lasted two days. It wasn't even the Risen that got us, in the end. We were caught by a pirate vessel, one foolhardy enough to be raiding the Orrian coast for buried treasure. Instead, they found a party of grubby, hungry, utterly useless Priory recruits. Some of us were barely sixteen."
For a moment, Marissa fell silent. Her lips pursed, as though the words on her tongue tasted foul. "We were held on that ship for nearly two weeks. Feeding us was optional for those bastards – we were better entertainment when we were too weak to fight back. I won't bore you with the details. Suffice to say, I wouldn't wish those two weeks on my worst enemy, not even Artair himself.
"Speaking of Artair: he refused to pay the ransom. That was all the pirates wanted us for; to this day, I believe they would have released us if they'd been paid. Artair thought he knew better, though. For all I know, he'd given us up for dead.
"But we escaped. We should have gone much sooner – more of us might have been strong enough to survive. We'd been arguing about tactics for a week, though... And we still thought Artair would come for us." Marissa closed her eyes. "Fifteen recruits. Two weeks on that ship. Eight of us made it out alive. I imagine the pirates dumped the bodies of the rest to the bottom of the Orrian Sea.
"We trekked out of Orr on our own. It took us another week. There were fewer camps in those days; the Pact hadn't spread as far as they have now. It wasn't until we were back in the Straits that we were picked up.
"And Artair was with the rescue party. He'd been in Orr the entire time – 'waiting for the right time to act', he told the other Archons, though that was patently a lie. He said he was surprised so few of us had escaped. 'You must have been a weaker batch than I thought' – those were his words. He was smiling as he said it."
Marissa cleared her throat delicately. "So I left the Priory. My one and only 'mission' had been a failed training exercise run by a sadistic, out-of-control sylvari who should have been removed from the Priory years ago. I went back to Divinity's Reach. I healed – and I became determined never to live my life on anyone else's terms again."
In the silence, Jean found himself remembering that, too. After her recovery, he'd barely seen Marissa. She'd spent weeks, bleeding into months, and then years, honing her skills as a mesmer. She'd trained until she could have killed all those pirates single-handedly, always looking for another challenge – until she'd chosen Yinn's game, and been reminded of how little control she could still be made to feel.
"Artair left the Priory soon after that mission," Erin said, her eyes dark. "You're right: he should have been kicked out years before, but he had too many allies inside. I suppose he wanted to leave on his own terms. He's spent the years since trading off his past association with the Priory, using it to take jobs we would never dream of tackling. There's a whole team dedicated to monitoring him."
"Not closely enough," Marissa said. "He's involved in this game. At first, I thought he might be one of Yinn's 'clients' – this is the sort of affair that would interest him. It goes much further than that, though. Yinn has been working for him from the start."
Jean caught the look that passed between Erin and Amber. They must have suspected at least some of this; Amber had revealed the bones of it to him and Vasha.
"We need to get to Graven Cay," Erin said softly. "I know Yinn isn't exactly an innocent, but if you think he's going to be rescued by Artair..."
"Oh, he'll come." Marissa's smile was tight. "Not to rescue Yinn – Artair only cares about himself. He can't resist either danger or intrigue, though. He prefers to be an observer, but if the game's about to go off the rails, he'll come himself. I'm sure of it."
"There might not be time for that." Vasha's voice made Jean jump. She was pointing off across the water, though it took him a moment to see what she'd seen. There was a dark shape moving slowly, about to vanish into the mist.
"Another team?" he asked.
"Yelazar." Both Vasha and Marissa spoke at the same moment, then looked at one another in apparent surprise.
"He might think this is part of the game," Marissa said, sounding almost reluctant.
Jean shuddered. That damn necromancer. The sooner they were rid of him, the better – because right now, he was just one more complication.