Chapter 2: Part 3 - Chain of Command

Erin had always loved the Black Citadel. Hoelbrak, her home city, was a place the norn went to socialise, to drink, to boast. The charr capital, on the other hand, smelt of hot steel and engine oil. It was alive with the sounds of industry, as busy and productive as a city could be.

Oska didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm. “What are we doing here?” he asked, the moment they stepped out of the asura gate.

“Meeting someone,” Erin replied, keeping one eye on the thief and the other on his sister. She was starting to think Auri wasn’t as vacant as she sometimes made out, but the girl still had a habit of wandering off.

“What about my cousin?”

Erin frowned. She felt guilty about leaving Jean to fend for himself, but she wasn’t going to admit that to Oska. Besides, even as she and the twins were leaving, more of the guild had been arriving in the Grove. Jean was in safe hands. Probably.

“Jean’s being taken care of,” she replied. “And we’ll be back in the Grove before nightfall. There’s something we need to do first.”

“Why here?” Oska asked, frustrated. “Why now? What about Ruby?”

“She’s the reason we’re here.”

“Enlighten me.”

Erin looked down at Oska’s stubborn face. He had a right to know, she reminded herself. It wasn’t just that they’d all become so entangled with his family. She’d deemed Oska old enough to become a member of Light’s Memory, which meant she had to treat him like one.

“Not all of the guild work out of Lion’s Arch,” she replied, scanning the clanking, clattering city centre. “Some of our members are more… nomadic.”

“Like Caolinn.”

Erin nodded. Caolinn tended to leave because nothing, not even her guild master, could make her stay. The two charr, on the other hand…

It wasn’t that Erin disliked Spark. The engineer was undeniably brilliant, a genius at her craft ‒ but she also had a tendency to put that genius to use in the wrong ways. It was better for all of them if Spark worked somewhere other engineers could keep an eye on her.

Truthfully, Erin wasn’t sure Spark worked very much at all, not any more. She had a workshop in the city, but she seemed to spend most of her time roaming the wilderness, Weir in tow. Erin had initially worried that Spark was searching for new and exciting ways to kill people, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Weir reported that Spark wasn’t the charr she’d once been.

But she was still an expert in her field ‒ and right now, that was exactly what Light’s Memory needed.

“There,” Oska said suddenly.

Erin followed his gaze and, sure enough, spied Weir leaning against the side of a building. He looked as neat and orderly as ever, his expression stoic. There was no sign of Spark.

“How did you recognise him?” Erin asked, as they crossed the plaza.

Oska glanced at Auri, then shrugged. “Auri knew,” he replied, as though that made perfect sense.

Weir greeted them with a nod. “Good to see you, Erin. Oska. Auri.”

Unlike Auri, Erin wasn’t surprised Weir knew the names of their new recruits. The Valparis were nothing if not distinctive. “And you, Weir. Where is she?”

Weir, usually so hard to read, pulled a face. “Sightseeing.”

Sightseeing. Erin hid her incredulity, though she noticed Oska rolling his eyes. “Where?” she asked.

Weir looked as though he would have preferred not to answer, but he’d grown up in the legions and following the chain of command still came naturally. “Nolani,” he growled.

Oska made a surprised noise. “You mean the ruins? Aren’t they full of angry ghosts?”

“Angry human ghosts,” Weir replied, baring a few too many teeth at the thief. Oska didn’t seem to notice; he didn’t seem the type to hold historic grudges, at least.

Erin wasn’t worried about the ghosts ‒ or not directly, anyway. Spark, she recalled, had once devised a weapon called Souleater, which was supposed to target the spirit inside a living body. She’d got the idea, Amber had once explained, by watching Ascalonian ghosts.

“She’s interested in that sort of thing,” Weir said, shrugging. He met Erin’s gaze, with a sombreness that made it clear he remembered all Spark’s past failings. “This isn’t like last time.”

“What happened last time?” Auri asked, tugging on Erin’s sleeve.

Erin gently shook her off. “Maybe we should come back later.”

“No need.” Weir was looking over Erin’s shoulder. When she turned, a hunched figure was threading its way through the crowd towards them.

It took Erin several moments to realise the figure was Spark. The charr was thinner than she had been, all her muscle pared back until her head looked too big for her narrow shoulders. Even more strikingly, her grubby engineer’s leathers had been replaced by neat black robes.

“I told you,” Weir said, his voice low. “Things are different now.”

Were they? Erin knew the robes could be an act, an attempt to make Spark look like a scholar who’d put all her practical ‘experiments’ behind her. She did look different, though, Erin had to admit. All the hunger in her eyes, the need to prove herself to the world, was gone.

“Well met, Spark,” Erin greeted her.

Spark’s grin showed all her teeth, which made her look far more like herself. “Erin ‒ or should that be ‘guild master’?”

As neither Spark nor Weir had ever taken orders from her, Erin thought that was something of a moot point.

“We need to talk,” Erin said, watching as Spark’s good cheer drained away.

“I’d invite you to my workshop, but I don’t take visitors,” Spark said. Erin wasn’t sure whether she was joking. “Why don’t we get a drink instead?”

Erin glanced at the twins. She had no idea when charr cubs were allowed to drink, but if the Valparis had been norn, they would have long since learnt to hold their ale. “Agreed.”

Spark took them to a tiny bar, little more than a hole in the wall behind a workshop loud with the sounds of hammering and welding. She ordered a round of a tarry ale that looked suspiciously like engine oil and was only slightly more palatable. Erin pushed hers aside.

“I’m not going to explain the whole situation to you,” she said, propping her elbows on the table.

Spark waved one claw in the air. “Scheming grandmothers and corrupt Priory archons, yes? I keep my ear to the ground.”

“Caolinn told her,” Weir put in.

“Pah.” Spark’s upper lip curled. “Fine, she did. We used to work together. That buys a little loyalty, at least.”

“You could have come to the guild hall,” Oska said. He was eyeing his charr ale with evident displeasure, though Erin was a little alarmed at how quickly Auri’s was disappearing. “You could have heard all this in person.”

“I could have done,” Spark said, wagging her claw again, “but the last I heard, there wasn’t much left of it.”

“Darr’s looking into that,” Erin said, trying to get the conversation back on track. “Look, there’s been a development. We caught Taria Valpari’s accomplice, Ruby. She says Taria and Artair are fighting over some kind of weapon.”

“Ah.” Spark leaned back in her chair, eyes glinting. “So you’ve come to me.”

“Not even Amber’s spent as much time studying weaponry as you have. We need your help.”

It wasn’t a command; Erin knew there was no point making one of those. She could only hope that Spark felt like being helpful ‒ and that the rumour of a weapon powerful enough to go to war over would entice her to listen.

“What,” Spark said slowly, “is it you want me to do, exactly?”

“Put the word out, for one thing. We need to know if there’s anything out there Artair might want to get his hands on.”

“Something other than Souleater?” Spark’s teeth were showing again. Amber had taken Souleater and promised to keep it safe. Erin wondered if that was a bargain Spark ever regretted making. “There might be.”

“But you doubt it?”

Spark shrugged. “I’m a scholar, not a hermit. If someone had built something even half as revolutionary as my creations, I’d have heard already.”

“Then could Artair be building something himself?”

“Does he have any engineers?”

“Just one, that we know of. A human from Divinity’s Reach. Vasha.”

Spark sniffed. “Never heard of her. What about Taria?”

All the eyes at the table turned to the twins. Oska looked wary; Auri appeared to have finished his ale as well as her own. “I don’t know,” he said uncertainly. “My grandmother has money. She could have hired the best engineers in Tyria.”

“Not the best,” Spark said, tapping her claws on the table and grinning. “And, last I heard, the second and third best were also otherwise engaged. Which means this weapon probably exists already. Interesting.”

There was a puzzle here, Erin knew, and it wasn’t one she was particularly keen to solve. Better if this mysterious weapon remained hidden until the end of time, if it was powerful enough to fight over. It was clear she’d piqued Spark’s curiosity, though, and that was the most important thing.

At least, Erin hoped it was. For a moment, in the face of Spark’s enthusiasm, she wished she’d stayed well away from the Black Citadel ‒ but that was unfair. Spark had changed. Weir wouldn’t have lied about that.

Besides, they couldn’t fight a war in the dark. Light’s Memory needed to know what they were involved in and Spark could help.

Abruptly, Spark stood. “I need to talk to some people.”

Erin pushed back her chair. They were of a height, her and Spark. That usually meant nothing to Erin; she was used to towering over her friends. Today, though, it somehow made her feel better. “Then you’ll join us in Lion’s Arch?”

“Will you have rebuilt the guild hall by then?” Spark smirked. “Don’t give me that look. I’ll be there.”

That was good enough for Erin. She nodded to the charr and headed out, the Valpari twins in tow. Oska was still grumbling under his breath, but at least Auri seemed none the worse for wear, despite all the ale.

They were heading back up the walkway to the asura gate when the messenger bird found them. It cheeped and fluttered around Erin’s head, before dropping a letter into her open palm.

Erin opened it with some trepidation. She’d only been away from the Grove for a few hours, but that was plenty of time for things to go wrong.

To her surprise, the letter was from Darr. It still made her heart sink.

Please return to Lion’s Arch immediately. There’s something you need to see.