Chapter 5: Part 5 - Family Traits

The summit of Draconis Mons wasn't what Jean had expected. After the previous levels of grey stone and overflowing verdure, they came to a wide expanse of dusty ochre rock. It was more like a vista from the Silverwastes, or perhaps even the fabled Crystal Desert. It was also far from empty.

The destroyers had caused them surprisingly little trouble, in the end. The volcano was still riddled with mercenaries and some of them... Jean was surprised they'd survived this long. Rushing past the destroyers like that, drawing the creatures in their wake? It seemed positively suicidal.

But it cleared the way, so that the Valparis could hurry up the rock bridge and reach the top of Draconis Mons with no more than a stubbed toe.

Oska pointed the way ahead. "The terrace curves around to the left. The land rises towards the centre of the volcano over there."

Jean put his hands on his hips. "Far be it from me to cast doubt on this enterprise, but do we really want to head straight for the heart of a volcano? Even to win this game?"

"The fire roars and surges," Auri put in, which was hardly reassuring. "It burns and it destroys. It is hungry."

If he was honest, Jean could feel the same thing. Fire wasn't his element of choice, but the very ground of Draconis Mons seemed to pulse and tremble. The magic here was powerful, but it was also unpredictable. He wasn't sure he'd be able to recreate the tremor that had felled the Marauders, or control anything else he cast.

"We don't need to worry about that," Marissa said briskly. "The fire must be contained, or this entire area would have been flooded by a sea of magma long ago."

"Lava," Jean said automatically. "It's called lava once it reaches the surface."

Marissa rolled her eyes, but their impending argument was interrupted by Oska. "Jean's right," he said, then laughed when Marissa scowled at him. "Not about the lava – I don't know about that. About winning the game. It's what we've wanted all this time, but there might be another way."

"What sort of 'other way'?" Marissa didn't hide her suspicion.

Oska looked immensely pleased with himself. "If you'll allow me to keep that secret a little bit longer... We have a meeting to attend."

He set off without waiting for an answer, forcing the rest of them to follow. Jean fell into step with Auri, noting the way her gaze was fixed on Oska's back. "Any idea what sort of 'meeting' he's set up?" he asked.

Auri's focus didn't waver. "My brother likes his secrets – as do we all."

Jean sighed. Yes, that was a bit of a Valpari family trait. One of these days, they might learn to talk to one another like ordinary, functional adults – but not today.

They travelled across the rocky terrace for the better part of an hour, until their boots were thick with orange dust and their eyes gritty with it. Oska followed no map, but he seemed to know exactly where he was going. He led them around beasts and, just once, a group of mercenaries who clearly thought they were better hidden than they really were. It wasn't until they reached a desolate stretch of empty rock that Oska finally stopped.

He turned to them, looking triumphant. "Before we continue, there's something you need to know. I had to keep it the utmost secret for as long as possible, but... I work for the Order of Whispers."

"We know," Jean said.

Oska's face fell. "You could have at least tried to look surprised."

Jean shrugged. "What is there to be surprised about? You're a perfectly traditional thief. You like knives, shadows, and skulking around. What other organisation were you going to join? The Vigil?"

Besides, there had been that little incident in Orr, the one Jean wasn't about to mention in case it revealed his own secrets. When he'd enquired about his family in one of the camps there, Oska's name had been brought up almost immediately. Everyone in the Order seemed to know him.

"Are you going to tell us what we're doing here?" Marissa asked.

"He isn't," said a voice, "but I am."

It took Jean a moment to recognise the figure who emerged from the shadows at the base of the cliff. He knew her face, but he'd never expected to see her here. "Primm?"

Now it was his turn to be stared at. "It seems thieves aren't the only ones who can keep secrets," Marissa said.

"Greetings to you all." Primm came closer, nodding to each of them in turn. "Oska. Jean. Good to see you again."

Jean knew Oska was glaring at him; that was what he got for stealing his cousin's thunder, he supposed. Thankfully, Oska was too distracted to keep it up for long. "Everyone, this is Explorer Primm. She's a representative of the Order of Whispers, usually based in the Shiverpeaks. She's been watching Yinn's game from the beginning."

"It's been extremely interesting," Primm said, folding her arms. "I can see why Yinn's attracted so many clients. Unfortunately for him, all good things must come to an end."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Marissa asked.

"It means we have a plan," Oska said. In that moment, he looked too young and too excitable to be a member of the Order of Whispers. "We've been putting it together for weeks, but the changing location of each round has made it difficult to enact. Now, we might finally have a chance."

"We'll save the specifics for later," Primm said. "Right now, all I need is your agreement."

"Agreement to what?" Jean asked, frustrated. He felt like he was still struggling to grasp something everyone else already understood.

"We're going to break the game," Oska said, with exaggerated patience. "Sabotage it so completely that no-one can win."

"It's the only way to stop this whole thing turning into a bloodbath," Primm added. "So, are we in agreement?"

Jean couldn't immediately explain the feeling of disappointment that surged into his chest – until Marissa spoke and he realised they felt the same way. "No. We're not. I've already got the better of Yinn once, when we were in Orr. It didn't change a thing. This time, I'm going to make sure we win."

Jean nodded. That was it. For all the times he told himself he didn't care about the game, that he wasn't competitive in the slightest, he'd still come all this way. The lure of winning was stronger than he'd ever imagined possible.

"Marissa's right," he said. "Yinn will be ready for anything we try. The only way we're getting out of this game alive is to win."

"I don't agree," Primm said. She sounded as measured as though she was taking part in a scholarly debate. "Yinn has changed the rules of this game with every round. He's introduced new players as he saw fit. You know he can't be trusted, so what makes you think he'll let anyone win?"

"Defeat on all sides wouldn't be very satisfying for his clients," Marissa said.

"Wouldn't it? We don't know their identities, only that there are fifteen of them. Perhaps it's not the competition they're interested in. Perhaps they're just here to watch people being killed."

In the silence that followed, Jean could hear a low hum. It was the volcano, he supposed, or perhaps the strange currents of magic under its surface.

"What," Marissa said slowly, "are you actually proposing?"

"We believe–" Primm stopped. "Can anyone else hear that?"

The hum that Jean had taken to be the magic of Draconis Mons was growing louder. He bent, pressing his fingers to the damp ground, but couldn't feel any change. If it wasn't the magic, though...

Primm stepped backwards, ears twitching. "It's coming from you. All of you."

Jean pulled out the game card, but it was utterly blank and inert. Oska was the first to start running his hands over his own clothing. He stripped off his jacket, felt along one of the seams – and pulled out a tiny metal disc, barely the size of his little fingernail.

"Looks like a magnet," he said, turning it over in his hands. It was definitely humming, loud enough to make Jean wince. "If we've all got one, they must have been planted on us whilst we were on that airship. It's the only time anyone could have got close enough."

Marissa was searching her own clothing. Jean ran a hand down each of his sleeves in turn. He couldn't immediately detect anything, but he couldn't escape a crawling sensation of dread, like spiders down his back.

Primm edged closer again, peering into Oska's hand. "That's not a magnet, but it is highly experimental. I suggest you–"

If she made a suggestion, Jean didn't hear it. There was a flash of blinding light, distracting him from his search. He threw both arms over his face, feeling a tug in the centre of his chest that wasn't unlike going through an asura gate. He had a moment of profound dizziness and found himself swaying.

The light faded as swiftly as it had appeared. Jean blinked away the dancing after-images, hoping he wasn't about to lose his last meal. "Damn it. What was that? Does Yinn want us to complete this round with no eyesight?"

There was no reply. Jean rubbed the last of the tears from his eyes – and found he wasn't where he'd been mere moments before. There was no rock wall, no undergrowth, and most alarmingly, no family or Explorer Primm.

Instead, there was an expanse of dusty brown stone – and in the middle of it, looking as though she'd just been slapped, was Vasha.