Chapter 5: Part 12 - Make Your Mark

Vasha woke to darkness and silence. Disorientation settled over her, until she could hardly say whether she was staring at the ceiling or the floor. There was a trace of light up there, though, outlining a beam across the ceiling, and there was a hard bed under her.

"An airship?" she wondered aloud, though she could feel no movement.

"Hardly. You've been asleep for two days. I'm not sure what that mesmer did to you, but it was remarkably effective."

Vasha sat up, startled. Her head swam, but she recognised Artair's voice even though she couldn't see him in the shadows. "You're alive."

"I am." Artair sounded amused. He must have leaned forward, because light suddenly bloomed across his nose and chin, until she could almost make out his expression. "Though I must say, Vasha, you think too little of my abilities in a fight. Your loyalty is admirable, but I believe I would have been victorious without your assistance."

Vasha settled back onto the thin pillow. "Roan?" she asked.

"A little late to care about his welfare, isn't it? As I understand it, you shot him, then stabbed him with a poisoned blade."

"Poisoned?" Vasha's voice faltered.

"It belonged to a member of the Order of Whispers." There was distaste in Artair's tone. "Their methods are somewhat... uncouth."

Vasha was silent. She'd killed Roan. She could feel it.

Except Artair shifted, making a sound of movement for the first time. "Charr are remarkably resilient creatures. I believe the leader of your former team will make a full recovery, given time."

Vasha knew that shouldn't be a relief; as Artair had said, it was too late to worry. She couldn't help it, though. She'd never wanted to hurt Roan. If only he hadn't been so determined to kill Artair...

Best not to think about that. Wherever she was now, the game had to be over. "Who won?"

Artair made a soft noise that was almost a laugh. "A member of the Nth Degree. Whilst you were engaged in my protection, and the Valparis were plotting with the Order of Whispers, those asura displayed a remarkable amount of persistence. I believe they'll live comfortably off their winnings for a very long time – if the Order of Whispers don't confiscate the lot."

"They're here?" Wherever 'here' was.

"Of course. The Order shipped us all back to Rata Sum the moment they got that battle under control. I deemed it unnecessary to oppose them – we needed to return here anyway. Besides, they have no power to press charges against us. We should be released by the end of the day – and if we're not..."

Artair didn't finish the sentence, but it was undeniably a threat. He'd consistently evaded the Durmand Priory, Vasha knew. There was no reason he couldn't do the same to the Order of Whispers.

"What about everyone else?" she asked.

Artair shifted again, his face sinking back into shadow. "The Order have already handed Yinn to the Peacemakers. I'm sure they'll find a very comfortable cell for him."

Vasha wondered at that. Yinn had been able to do whatever he wanted for weeks – the Peacemakers hadn't stopped him on any of his returns to Rata Sum. Maybe the Order of Whispers would cajole them into it, though. She suspected they could be very persuasive.

"As for Yinn's clients," Artair went on, "they have an interesting time ahead. I believe the Order of Whispers is attempting to claim jurisdiction over them. Some were killed and others fled, but the rest may well be shipped back to Kryta."

"To be imprisoned?"

"Perhaps. Some of them brought a great deal of money and influence into Yinn's game. I'd be surprised if the sentences stick."

"Except Yinn's."

She could almost hear Artair smiling. "I suppose we'll see about that, won't we? Come. I'm sure you've rested enough."

Artair made no sound as he stood, but the room was suddenly flooded with light. His silhouette passed through the illuminated doorway and Vasha scrambled to follow. Artair waited for her in a corridor that had clearly been built with asura in mind; if either of them had been taller, they would have had to duck.

"What happens now?" she asked.

Artair was silent for several moments, until they stopped at the end of the corridor. "When we met, in Cursed Shore, what did I say to you?"

Vasha hesitated. His words sounded almost like a test. "That you were forming a guild."

"For what purpose?"

This time, Vasha's hesitation came from another source. Artair, she realised now, had been remarkably vague on that score. "To... advance your research interests."

"Just so. There are parts of this land we inhabit that have seen very little exploration; new vistas are being opened all the time. A young, enterprising guild could learn a great deal, in the right circumstances."

Vasha wanted to throw his question back at him: for what purpose? Artair was already moving, though, and she was forced to follow.

They stepped into a small common area, chairs and tables set at neat intervals around the room. The ceiling was higher than in the corridor, but the two figures stuffed into asuran chairs still looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Gull. Haki." Surprise made Vasha speak before she could stop herself. "You're..."

Both levered themselves to their feet, but it was Gull who spoke. "Don't even think about telling us we're disloyal."

"Of course not," Vasha said. She'd been the one to attack Roan, after all.

"We like Roan," Haki said, sounding as uncomfortable as Vasha felt. "He's been good to us, but..."

"But the Marauders never felt like a proper guild," Gull said, folding her arms. "We were Roan's hirelings, not his equals."

"And I have offered them," Artair said, "what I have offered you, Vasha. A fresh start – and a chance to make their mark on the world."

Vasha nodded. She couldn't blame the norn for being ambitious. When Artair spoke, he seemed to conjure a world with limitless possibilities. Haki had always seemed to Vasha like a follower, but Gull... She could be more than Roan had allowed her to be.

Artair clapped his hands together, making Vasha jump. "I must confess, this little guild of ours doesn't yet have a name. I would welcome your suggestions."

This guild. Vasha looked at the norn again, then at Artair. Just the four of them, taking on the world. It would have seemed absurd, yet she knew what they were all capable of.

"Or perhaps our fifth member will have more ideas," Artair said. "I suspect he has the soul of a poet, something the rest of us are sorely lacking."

Vasha's stomach seemed to turn over. The soul of a poet... She knew without asking who their 'fifth member' would be. For a moment, she hated him for it, but the feeling quickly faded. Jean was loyal to the point of obsession and he'd made it clear how he felt. If she went to the end of the world, he'd follow.

Which was, perhaps, no bad thing. Vasha trusted the norn to back her up in a fight, but that wasn't the same as believing they always had her best interests at heart. At least she could rely on Jean for that.

"Where is he?" she asked, hating the way her stomach seemed to flip again as she asked.

"Out running a few errands for me," Artair said. "He might be a while."

Vasha almost rolled her eyes. Artair had no reason to trust Jean – of course he'd want to put him in his place.

"But I'm sure we can function without him," Artair went on. "I accepted Jean's application to this guild, but only as a junior member. Those who will be making the decisions are all present in this room."

"What 'decisions'?" Gull asked, as implacable as a stone wall. She'd chosen to be here, but she didn't exactly look happy about it.

"The interesting kind, of course." Artair dropped into a chair, managing to look effortlessly graceful despite the fact it was too small for him. He smiled at them all. "The world is before us, my friends. How shall we remake it?"