Third Interlude: Head Full Of Smoke

Spark was keeping secrets. In the grand scheme of things, that wasn’t unusual. She lived and breathed her schemes, each one more elaborate than the last. Weir was used to the engineer’s scribbled notes, her furtive mutterings, and her odd excursions in the dead of night.

Except, as secretive as Spark was, it was a long time since she’d gone out of her way to hide things from him.

The first Weir knew of it was when she disappeared. The day started like any other, the sun rising red above the city walls and bathing every surface in a rusty glow. Weir spent the morning making the rounds of every shop and market stall in the Citadel ‒ Spark’s shopping lists became more esoteric every day ‒ and when he got back to the workshop, she was gone. He wasn’t worried, he told himself, but that felt more and more like a lie as day turned into dusk. Spark finally reappeared at midnight, slinking into the workshop like a ghost.

“Where have you been?” He tried not to let it sound like an accusation.

“Had to talk to some people.” Spark’s voice was flat.

“What about?”

“Work.”

Weir stared at her. That was extraordinarily unhelpful, even for Spark. She often became uncommunicative when she was deep in her experiments, but this… This was different.

For once, Spark seemed to know she’d said too little. “It’s for Erin,” she said finally, her tone grudging. “She wanted us to look into a weapon, remember?”

Of course he remembered. Weir felt a little of the tension leave his shoulders, then wondered if his relief was premature. Erin had asked them to look into the weapon Light’s Memory were tracking ‒ and she’d also been wary of getting Spark involved.

That had been weeks ago, though. A part of Weir, if he was honest, had shared Erin’s wariness. He’d been glad that Spark had seemingly forgotten the whole affair; she’d certainly never mentioned it again.

Except she hadn’t forgotten, of course. She’d just been biding her time.

“What did you find?” Weir asked, trying to sound casual.

Spark grunted. “Nothing. There’s no mythical weapon out there waiting to be found. It’s all nonsense. Erin’s head is full of smoke.”

Nonsense, was it? Then why had Spark been gone since morning?

The next day, he followed her. This time, Spark crept out before dawn, clearly hoping to avoid questions. She was no spy, though, and she didn’t once look back as Weir trailed her across the city. That was what you got for years of being in charge, he supposed. You ended up forgetting that the world didn’t revolve around you and that your subordinates might have their own agenda.

Weir’s agenda was very clear: to save Spark from herself. She was utterly brilliant, every bit as good as she claimed to be ‒ but she didn’t see the world the way everyone else did. It wasn’t a question of ethics or morals. In Spark’s mind, Weir had learnt, everything she did was for the advancement of Tyria. It was just that the rest of Tyria didn’t always agree.

The metal walkways of the Citadel grew quieter as they turned corner after corner, Spark always a dozen steps ahead. Still, she hadn’t noticed she was being followed. She only slowed when she came to an alley on the edge of the Perimeter Loop, where the dawn crowds were thin. Weir hung back, positioning himself behind two norn who appeared to have just rolled out of a tavern. Spark’s gaze skipped over them before she vanished into the alley.

For the first time, Weir hesitated. Did he really want to know what Spark was doing here? Wouldn’t it be better to turn around and forget he’d ever noticed her acting strangely? Better for him, perhaps… But if Spark was getting herself into trouble, he had to know.

By the time Weir reached the mouth of the alley, Spark was nothing but a hunched shape at the far end ‒ but she wasn’t alone.

Weir couldn’t hear what either of them were saying. The stranger was short and slender, at least for a charr, and dressed in nondescript leathers. Their face was shadowed and there was little else to identify them. That alone made Weir suspicious. Most charr in the Citadel made no secret of their legion and warband. This one was almost certainly a spy.

The meeting didn’t last long. Spark bent her heads toward the stranger as a small object passed between them. A moment later, the other charr strode away.

There seemed little point in delaying the confrontation. Weir disliked subterfuge and he disliked spying on his oldest friend even more. The moment Spark emerged from the alley, he stepped into her path.

She didn’t seem surprised to see him. “Got something to say?” she growled.

Weir nodded towards the alley. “Thinking of joining the Ash Legion?”

Spark folded her arms. “She’s a contact with useful information. Got to keep the guild master happy.”

“Since when?” Weir didn’t hide his surprise. “And what about Erin’s head being full of smoke?”

Spark’s silence was broken only by the scratch of her claws against the sleeve of her robe. “I may have been too hasty,” she said finally.

Once, that would have been an impossible admission for a charr as proud as Spark. It still surprised Weir how much she’d changed ‒ in some ways, at least. “So this is about the weapon after all,” he said warily.

Spark glanced around, as though making sure no one would overhear. “Ash Legion keep their ears to the ground. They maintain lists of all known threats, in Ascalon and beyond. Some of the lists are of weapons‒”

Meaning the legion had known all about Souleater, Weir supposed, yet they’d chosen to do nothing about it. That was spies for you. Gathering intelligence was one thing, but acting on it quite another.

“‒and the rest are full of… people of interest,” Spark finished.

“So Erin’s after the first list,” Weir said.

Spark put her head on one side, her expression turning sly. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But there’s one name, according to my source, that turns up on both lists.”

Spark dug a hand into a pocket and drew out what the stranger had given her. It was nothing but a slip of paper, folded into quarters.

“You’ve already looked at it,” Weir guessed.

“I have.” Spark’s grin grew wider. “Poor Erin’s in for a whole world of trouble.”

Apprehension made all the hairs rise on the back of Weir’s neck, until he patted them down in irritation. “No riddles, Spark, Get to the point.”

“It’s Auri Valpari,” Spark said, tossing the scrap of paper to Weir. He caught it but didn’t immediately open it. There no longer seemed any point. “Ash has been keeping an eye on her for years ‒ and so have a lot of other people, by the look of it.”

Auri Valpari. That little slip of a human girl, who’d drifted after her brother like a shadow? She was a threat worthy of surveillance?

“We need to talk to Erin,” Weir said, falling into step beside Spark as she finally moved away from the alley.

“We could,” Spark agreed, “but word on the street is that she knows already. The girl’s missing, presumably taken by Artair ‒ unless she went willingly.”

Even more reason to head to Lion’s Arch, in Weir’s opinion. He and Spark had been somewhat absent as members of Light’s Memory, but they were still officially part of the guild. If Erin needed back-up, they could provide it.

Except Spark was grinning and Weir knew that look all too well. “What?” he demanded. “What are you thinking?”

Spark’s smile turned sharp. “There’s a weapon on the loose and it’s one Erin was careless enough to lose ‒ but we won’t. There’s no one in Tyria who knows weaponry better than me. Forget the guild, Weir. We’re going to handle this ourselves.”

That, Weir thought with a sinking feeling, was exactly what he’d been afraid of.