Chapter 1: Part 1 - Just Deserts

Leading a guild was full of surprises. It had never crossed Erin’s mind that something as simple as joining a game – even one as large as Yinn’s Carnival – would lead her to the cells of the Order of Whispers. What she’d assumed would be nothing more than harmless, well-paying fun had rapidly spiralled out of control, though. In the end, working for Yinn had felt like one more unfortunate decision in an ever-expanding list of them.

But Erin had learnt that it was impossible to predict what was to come, because nothing in her long years as a warrior had really prepared her for leading a guild. True, she prided herself on being tough, practical, and resilient; all that training and experience had to count for something. Being a warrior was a straightforward and solitary life, though, and therefore very different to being in charge of Light’s Memory.

Meeting Amber, three years before, had changed so many things. The asura was headstrong, stubborn, and frequently a pain in Erin’s behind – but she was also fierce, and fiercely loyal. It was impossible to spend long in her company without feeling the need to make the world a better place.

Which was how, in the wake of Zurra’s capture, Erin had found herself becoming a leader. Forming Light’s Memory had seemed like the most natural thing in the world, when they'd been through so much together. Once again, though, Erin had failed to predict the future. When she’d suggested a guild, it had never occurred to her that Amber wouldn't be the one to lead them.

It was Amber who led the way now, at least, stiff-backed and focused. The cells of the Order of Whispers were clean, but they were certainly not comfortable. Erin’s feet splashed through puddles, cold water soaking into the seams of her boots. She had to duck under bulges in the rough stone ceiling with every step; the hilt of her greatsword scraped against the ones she forgot to dodge.

“Wasn't built for norn, was it?” Amber said, up ahead.

Erin grumbled something in reply, but her heart wasn't really in it. If she'd had any choice in the matter, she would have left this interrogation to Amber. She was still ostensibly the one in charge, though, which meant here she was, traipsing through the dank, dark cells of the Order of Whispers, heading for a meeting with Yinn.

They were being led by a scrawny sylvari, who'd complained vociferously from the moment she'd met them at the entrance, and finally said, “You can't honestly think you're going to get anything out of him.”

Erin was inclined to agree. Yinn had been unhelpful even when they were supposed to be working for him. Now that he was in the Order’s custody, he wasn't likely to be any more obliging.

Amber, though, might be stubborn, but she was also hopeful. She was convinced they'd find something valuable in whatever Yinn had to tell them – and if they didn't, at least they could enjoy seeing the asura get his just deserts. That, perhaps, would make this whole journey worthwhile.

They came to the end of the corridor, where the ceiling had grown lower, the puddles deeper. The sylvari stopped at an iron-bound door and rapped on it with one fist.

“Stand back from the door,” she ordered, presumably for Yinn’s benefit, before sliding the bolts open.

The door swung open slowly, with a great deal of creaking. The room beyond was more comfortable than Erin had expected. There was a narrow bed with a straw mattress, a metal desk, and a chair to go with it. There were also sealed magical lanterns on three of the walls, so at least Yinn wasn't sitting in the dark. The Order had even given him something to do. There was a stack of books on one corner of the desk, a pile of plain paper beside it.

Not that Yinn himself looked impressed by any of it. He sat on the single chair, his arms folded and a scowl on his face. His gaze fixed on Amber. “You again. Come to gloat, I suppose.”

Erin would have corrected him, except she could see the faint smile on Amber’s face, and knew it was at least partly true.

“If I have,” the thief said, “it's because you deserve it.”

There was a moment of silence as the sylvari removed herself from the room and closed the door firmly behind her. Erin settled back against the wall, arms folded. None of the furniture was large enough for a norn, nor did Yinn look like he was going to make room for herself or Amber. If looks could kill, neither of them would have still been breathing.

Finally, Yinn’s patience – what little was left of it – ran out. “Let's just get this over with.”

Amber took three steps across the room, then swung back to Yinn. “You've had time to consider the questions we put to you before. If your answers have changed, now's the time to tell us.”

For the first time, Yinn looked faintly amused. “Why, by the Eternal Alchemy, would I tell you anything I haven't already?”

If Amber felt any frustration at the answer, she didn't show it. “Then let me ask you again. Perhaps we can jog something loose in that faulty memory of yours. The game you were in charge of–”

Yinn held up a hand. “I'm afraid we won’t get very far if you insist on such simplistic and erroneous assumptions.”

At that, Amber merely raised an eyebrow. “Erroneous?”

Yinn got to his feet, and Erin thought he would have paced if there had been room to do so. “Erroneous assumptions,” he repeated, enunciating the words carefully. “Like, for instance, the fact that the game you speak of was ever under my control.”

Erin uncrossed her arms, then folded them again. “What part of you being in charge,” she said slowly, “have we got so wrong?”

Yinn waved one hand in the air. “Practically all of it. I was only ever the… ringmaster, you might say. Participants in the game required a recognisable face, a point of contact from whom to receive their orders. If you had done even the slightest shred of research, you would know my involvement went no further.”

Erin had to resist an urge to bash her own forehead against the stone wall of the cell, but it was Amber who snapped, “Yet you had staff. You hired them personally.”

Yinn shook his head vehemently. “Assumptions, once again. The orders I gave to both staff and participants were never my own.”

Amber looked as unimpressed as Erin felt. “Where did they come from, then? Feel free to enlighten us.”

There was a pause, in which Yinn’s smile grew. “If you don’t already know the answer to that question, then I'm afraid I cannot help you. I can assure you, though, that the Carnival required both money and a great deal of power to pull off. Neither of those things came from me.”

Perhaps they hadn’t, and yet Erin could feel the conversation backing into a corner. They’d interviewed Yinn three times over the past week and the only name he’d revealed was the one they already knew: Artair, formerly known as the Archon.

Amber spoke before Erin could get her thoughts in order. Threats weren’t a favourite tactic of Light’s Memory, but this one… Even Erin had to admit it was warranted. “Do you understand that if you refuse to cooperate, you're going to be in this cell for the rest of your natural life?”

Yinn didn't immediately respond, and when he did, it was more hesitantly then before. “Being imprisoned is not the worst fate an asura can suffer.”

And that was at the heart of their failed interviews, Erin knew. Yinn refused to give them more information because he was far more scared of his former masters than he was of Light’s Memory.

It seemed Amber's patience had also run out. She stalked back to the door and hammered on it in disgust. Swift steps could be heard outside, and when the door opened, Amber left without a word.

Erin followed more slowly, with a final look back at Yinn. He was still seated at the desk, staring into a dark corner of the room. His expression was filled with more despair than it seemed possible for a haughty asura to possess. With a shudder, Erin followed Amber out.

The thief waited for her halfway along the corridor. “Want to get something to drink?” Erin asked, rather than comment on the situation. Even for a guild leader, it seemed safer that way.

Amber let out an explosive sigh and launched off along the corridor. “You know that's not going to solve anything.”

Erin shrugged, despite knowing Amber wouldn't see it. “Never said it would.”

Amber sighed again, which Erin took as being an agreement. They weren't going to get anywhere with Yinn; that much was now perfectly clear.

Which meant one strand of their investigation was permanently closed. She would need time and consideration to decide where that left them, and until then… She only hoped the others in Light’s Memory were having better luck.