Chapter 1: Part 3 - Den Of Thieves

The guild hall of Light’s Memory had, if Erin was honest, seen better days. It was a former warehouse on the docks of Lion’s Arch, which had seemed practical in the early days of the guild. Back then, with Zurra only just captured and Erin newly in charge, all she’d wanted was a safe place for them to sleep, train, and catch up with one another between paying jobs.

Truthfully, she’d expected Light’s Memory to fall apart within weeks. Amber and herself were committed, but otherwise… Her brother, Ivar, was there because he had nowhere else to go. Darr, the former Whispers agent, had an agenda he rarely shared. The charr, Spark and Weir, were content to let Erin lead, but they spent most of their time out in the field, whether they had orders to or not. Then there was Caolinn, who’d been rescued from an entanglement with the Nightmare Court, but who still managed to spend most of her time doing… Erin wasn’t sure what Caolinn did. Like the charr, it was usually anything that required her to be outside Lion’s Arch.

All of which meant that their warehouse had been made to serve for a full three years, despite being tatty and smelling of fish.

Now, though… Things had changed. Erin had never expected to expand the guild so rapidly; this influx of members had left her head spinning. There was Marissa Valpari, who’d been surprisingly easy to manage so far, even if she clearly thought the guild hall was beneath her. There was Roan who, like Ivar, didn’t seem to have anywhere else to go. And then there were the twins.

Auri was a sweet little thing; even if it was impossible to know what she was thinking, she didn’t seem likely to cause trouble. Her brother, though…

Oska Valpari, Erin had quickly realised, didn’t want to be there. She gathered from Marissa that he’d been promised a post in the Order of Whispers, only to be disgraced by his involvement in Yinn’s game. Erin had so far spent three weeks sending him on every minor assignment she could think of, mostly to get him out of her hair.

But she kept thinking of something her brother had said as the Valparis and Roan arrived, that first night. He’d surveyed them, then spat on the floor; Erin would have chastised him for that, if they’d had any floorboards. “Too many spies,” he’d said. “As if we didn’t have enough already. You’ve got a den of mesmers and thieves and agents, sister. Good luck to you.”

Erin had brushed him off at the time, but in the following weeks, she’d discovered how right he was. They did indeed have two mesmers, two thieves, and at least four discarded members of the Order of Whispers. And that was before you counted three charr who couldn’t follow orders and a brother she only half trusted. The only one of them who didn’t have a shady background was Auri Valpari and she spent most of her time inside her own head.

At least there was Amber. The asura was steadfastly loyal, and if she thought Erin was doing a terrible job of leading them, at least she never said it out loud.

The guild hall was quiet when they returned from the Order of Whispers. All Erin wanted to do was go to the nearest inn and buy a flagon of ale as big as her head, but that wasn’t the responsible thing to do. Instead, she took a bottle from their stash in the corner and made her rounds of the guild.

Roan and Marissa – an unlikely pair, if ever there was one – were playing cards beside the fire. Marissa leaned back languidly as Erin approached, but Roan got to his feet. Erin didn’t know what legion he’d served in, but there was still a trace of military discipline about him.

The charr folded his arms. “Get anything else out of that worm?”

“Not a thing,” Erin replied. The one thing she knew about being a leader was that lying to her guild mates didn’t get her anywhere – not surrounded by so many people who could sniff out her secrets, at any rate. “Looks like it’s time to try other leads.”

“What other leads?” Marissa gave an elegant wave with one hand. “You don’t really think Oska’s going to find anything?”

Erin’s sole wish for Oska was that he’d spend a week cooling his heels, then come back to the guild hall a little more willing to work with her. “We’ll see,” she said. “Roan, I’m sending you to Black Citadel. I doubt Yinn had any charr backers, but we need to rule it out.”

Roan shrugged, his armour rattling. He, at least, seemed to have put the ghosts of his past behind him; going back to his home city didn’t faze him.

Erin turned to Marissa. “Marissa, I want you in Queensdale. Follow up any connections you might have out there. See if you can find any nobles who might have financed Yinn.”

Marissa gaze a lazy smile. “I’m already on my way,” she said, before breaking apart into a shimmering cloud of butterflies.

Roan grumbled a curse under his breath. “Damned clones. Thought that was the real woman for once.”

Erin had learnt from Darr that clones could only travel a short distance from their mesmers, otherwise she would have suspected Marissa Valpari had never actually stepped foot in their guild hall.

She moved on, coming to where Darr had set up his desk. He was still the most surprising addition to their guild, in Erin’s opinion. He’d disappeared for several weeks after Zurra’s defeat, then turned up inside the guild hall with all the furniture from his previous lair. “I need a new base of operations,” he’d declared.

What he really meant, in Erin’s view, was that he needed more operatives. Either way, he’d been there ever since.

She rested a hip on the edge of his desk, making the whole thing creak. “Any news?”

Darr shuffled papers without looking up. “You’ll know as soon as I do.”

Erin wasn’t entirely convinced of that, but she nodded anyway. Darr had become visibly frustrated in recent weeks, which wasn’t like him. He hadn’t even been involved in the carnival, but in tracking Yinn’s connections, he’d discovered a problem he couldn’t solve. That was enough to give them all sleepless nights.

Erin moved on again, coming to the bench where Ivar was sharpening a pile of blades. They stood together in silence for several minutes, as Erin drained her bottle of ale and Ivar sorted through the weapons.

“This isn’t like you,” he said finally.

Erin’s head came up. “Meaning?”

Ivar shrugged. “All this creeping around in the dark. Yinn’s caught. That’s what matters.”

In other circumstances, Erin might have agreed. She was norn and she was a warrior – her preferred method of dealing with a problem was hitting it over the head until it didn’t get up again. With Yinn, though… There was so much power behind him, so much money and influence. He’d had golems, airships, hundreds of paid staff. Just because he was now out of the picture didn’t mean the carnival wouldn’t have a second round.

Which would have been someone else’s problem, if Erin hadn’t felt so guilty about working for him. She’d thought the game was harmless; the fact that she’d misread the situation so badly made her question far more than just Yinn’s background.

“You’re not going to let it go, are you?” Ivar asked, surprising her. They’d grown accustomed to one another, these last few years, but it was a working partnership. The closeness they’d had as youths was long gone and Ivar rarely questioned her motives. Perhaps he felt he had no right to.

“I’m not,” she said, slamming her ale bottle onto the bench. “Light’s Memory came together to fight the Inquest. We’re not here to save the world – but when we see something wrong, it’s our duty to fix it.”

Ivar made a dismissive noise. “This isn’t like fighting Zurra. No-one cared when you went up against the Inquest. Yinn, though? The moment you poke your nose in, his powerful friends are going to notice.”

Powerful friends, was it? They’d made no effort to free him from the Order of Whispers, that was for sure. Besides… Erin’s gaze swept across the guild hall. It might be ramshackle, but the people assembled there weren’t. Yinn wasn’t the only one with powerful friends, and Erin’s were a lot more loyal. Most of them, at least. She was sure she’d trust them all eventually.

Ivar had fallen silent, save for the grind of blade against whetstone. Erin reached for her empty ale bottle, her gaze catching on the alcove to the right of the work bench. It held a statue, roughly life-sized, of a ranger with a bow and a large cat curled around his ankles. Erin raised her empty bottle to it, ignoring Ivar’s stare. Blaise was long gone, but Light’s Memory didn’t forget. That was what true friendship was.

In fact, Blaise’s statue looked particularly striking, with the sun coming in low through the windows, piercing the mist around his feet.

Erin blinked. Mist? Inside the guild hall? She’d only had one ale.

Ivar’s head came up and he sniffed audibly. “Do you smell smoke?”

Erin was already drawing breath for the loudest shout she could manage, but Roan got there before her. He charged out of a back room, weapons drawn. His bellow was loud enough to shake the walls. “Fire!”