Chapter 4: Part 2 - The Upper Hand

Marta’s office was both tiny and alarmingly familiar to Erin. It had once been a storeroom, stuffed full of unused scrolls and abandoned student theses. It had also been just about roomy enough, Erin recalled, for two norn who’d had one too many ales and ended up wearing too few clothes. They’d been a pair of drunken fools, all right. No wonder Marta had called the relationship off before it could really get started.

If Marta had any embarrassment over the memory ‒ if she even remembered it at all ‒ she didn’t let it show. Instead, she ushered Erin and Oska inside, awkwardly pulled out the only spare chair, then slid into her own behind the desk.

“I’ll stand,” Oska announced, leaving Erin to sit down ‒ where she found herself once again staring into Marta’s astonishingly blue eyes.

Which were watching her expectantly. Marta, it seemed, had retained the ability to go long periods without blinking. “You said you had questions to ask.”

Erin cleared her throat. She wished, more than anything, that Oska wasn’t there. She did have questions, but not a single one was about Artair. She wanted to know how Marta had been, whether she’d built that homestead she’d always talked about, if she ever passed through Lion’s Arch. None of that was relevant, though ‒ and, worst of all, Erin feared the answers.

“You’ve met Artair.” It was Oska who spoke, jolting Erin from her thoughts.

Marta’s expression once again became wary. “A long time ago. He was already an archon here when I joined the Priory.”

Erin’s mouth went dry. “Did you take part in any of his… expeditions?”

“I avoided them, thankfully. I got accepted into a research team almost as soon as I arrived. By the time Artair started another round of recruitment, I was busy elsewhere.”

“It wasn’t a requirement to work with him?” Oska asked.

“Not exactly.”

“So anyone who was asked to go on his training missions could have refused?”

Erin knew she was pulling the same grimace that Marta now wore.

“It was never that easy,” Marta said, echoing Erin’s thoughts. “Everyone knew that if you didn’t go on Artair’s missions, it would take you a lot longer to prove yourself in the Priory. Artair had a lot of sway with those in charge.”

“Does he still?” Oska pressed.

“Of course not,” Marta said firmly, putting both hands flat on the desk. “Artair was thrown out for misconduct.”

Erin realised Oska was staring at her with a challenge in his eyes. She didn’t want to call Marta a liar, but she also knew a strong guild leader wouldn’t back down so easily. “That’s not exactly how Artair remembers it,” she said reluctantly.

Marta raised an eyebrow.

“Artair thinks he went willingly,” Erin went on. “He thinks the Priory got too stuffy and restrictive for him, so he just… left.”

“That’s not what the records say,” Marta said.

“Records can be falsified.” Oska was smiling, but there was no warmth in it. “Your leaders probably wanted it to look like they got the upper hand over Artair ‒ and he wasn’t around to contradict them.”

Marta lifted her chin and flicked her braid back over a shoulder. Erin knew that look far too well: she was getting ready for an argument.

Arguing wasn’t going to get them anywhere, though. There was still a chance, however small, that they might discover something useful in the Priory. Marta turning bull-headed and defensive was the last thing they needed.

“Tell us what else you remember,” she said, before Oska could interrupt. “What was the mood like when Artair finally left?”

Marta’s jaw was clenched, but eventually she said, “Combative. Like we were on the verge of going to war.”

Erin sat up straighter. “With whom?”

“His supporters.” Marta’s dismissive tone seemed aimed at Artair himself, as though she didn’t want to give him so much credit. “I don’t know whether Artair went willingly or not, but there was a lot of talk about who was going with him. There was a group of explorers who wanted to start a protest, too. There were rumours they were going to barricade the archives until Artair’s case was heard, but he left before the protest really got started.”

Erin sighed. Whatever else you thought of Artair, he had a knack for inspiring loyalty. “What happened to the explorers?” she asked.

Marta shrugged. “Separated and sent off on distant expeditions as quickly as possible, from what I heard.”

“That just means Artair’s supporters were spread far and wide,” Oska put in.

That was true enough, except… “Artair didn’t call on them,” Erin said. “He involved himself in Yinn’s game so he could build an entirely new guild. Why would he do that?”

Marta began tapping the table with one hand, as though turning over a puzzle in her mind. “Because they were all still explorers and he didn’t want the Priory looking over his shoulder?”

“Perhaps,” Erin said, “but it doesn’t sound like he cared what the Priory thought, even when he was still officially a member. Artair has always done what he liked, without fear of reprisals.”

Marta abruptly snorted. “There’s one person he fears. You should have seen his face when she turned up. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s why he left in such a hurry.”

Erin leaned forwards; beside her, she could feel Oska doing the same. “Who?” she demanded. “Who does Artair fear?”

“One of the Valparis.” Marta’s tapping intensified. “I couldn’t tell you her name. She was the one who turned up after the expedition to Orr, though. She came to collect one of the recruits personally. Her granddaughter, I think ‒ Marissa, or something like that.”

“Taria was here?” Oska sounded strangled.

Marta snapped her fingers in acknowledgement. “That’s the one. She turned up with a whole entourage of servants, then started throwing around money and orders as though she owned the place. Like I said, even Artair didn’t stick around for long after that.”

Erin wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. So Artair was actually afraid of Taria and he’d built an entirely new guild because his old supporters in the Priory knew it. That would have been both satisfying and amusing, except it meant he had even more of a reason to hold a grudge against the Valparis.

Worse, they had no way of knowing if Taria was still their ally. Even Oska couldn’t get a message to her now. This was a war that was rapidly closing ranks; if they weren’t careful, Light’s Memory would be shut out entirely.

Marta leaned forwards, hands stretching across the table. She almost touched Erin’s arm, then seemed to think better of it. “You’re obviously here because you think Artair’s a danger. I know the Priory didn’t do enough to shut him down. What can I do to help?”

Erin’s heart squeezed painfully. Marta wasn’t asking as an archon, but as an old friend. Perhaps their relationship wasn’t quite dead yet.

“We need a way to fight Artair,” Oska said. “Unless the Priory is hiding some secret about him that could help us, we need resources. Weapons, people, equipment.”

He was restraining himself from saying more, Erin knew. It was Auri’s life that was on the line right now and Oska was far more terrified than his calm demeanour let on.

But Marta had drawn back. “Artair isn’t the Priory’s responsibility any more,” she said, sounding almost sad. “No one here is going to go out and hunt him down. That isn’t what we do, but… There might be someone who can help.”

She got to her feet and began to squeeze past the desk. Erin stood abruptly, trying to move out of the way before they bumped into one another. For an uncomfortable moment, they were almost nose to nose, but then Marta was past and stepping into the corridor.

“I didn’t want to say anything before, because we’re really not supposed to talk about Artair,” Marta said, “but you’re not the only ones who’ve been asking about him. There’s already someone here, digging through the records. No one’s supposed to know what she’s researching; I was sworn to secrecy.”

Erin’s heart leapt. It was Taria, she was here… But no, the old woman knew all about Artair already. Besides, Marta had met Taria before and would have mentioned her by name. Ruby, then? Could she be investigating on her own?

Marta paused beside another door and reached for the handle. “I don’t know who let her in,” she said, voice low. “She’s not Priory, but she must know someone high up to have got this far. Her research isn’t even being monitored, as far as I can tell.”

It was Ruby. It had to be.

Except Marta swung the door open with one hand, letting light spill into the gloomy archives beyond ‒ and the figure who stood with their back to the corridor was unmistakeably charr.