Chapter 21.2: Culprit

The four stood silently for a moment, deep uncertainty on all their faces as they glanced back and forth at each other.

Their gazes returned to Ventyr, seemingly at once, and Minkus fumbled for words: “It— I—“ He was assigned to this mission, responsible for it. He just had to find something to say.

A quieting hand fell on his shoulder. “We don’t know where the jade is, Sergeant,” Jinkke said plainly, leaving her hand on her brother’s shoulder as she looked Ventyr in the eyes. “It’s been a highly unusual morning, but this is the first we’ve heard of this aspect of it. At least, it’s the first I’ve heard.” She looked back at the others.

The sylvari’s wooden knuckles cracked and popped as his hand tightened into a fist. His voice, however, held little if any of that tension. “What do you mean ‘an unusual morning’?”

As though scripted, Jinkke, Yissa, and Skixx took turns conveying the short tale of their morning’s events. It took only minutes before all were on the same page and puzzling the events together, the others appearing to have their conclusions decisively drawn. Certainty. It was an expression, a posture, a tone that Minkus was very familiar with, though he rarely experienced it himself. He certainly didn’t experience it now.

The three asura and the sylvari talked, and Minkus stared off into the clear sky. Gulls called to one another across the bay, and the salty breeze brushed through his disorderly hair. In any other circumstances, those things would have delighted him, but at the moment nothing brought him a smile.

“It was obviously the human,” Yissa groaned.

Minkus lowered his gaze from the sky back to the group again. “We— I mean, it couldn’t have been— she— there could be another explanation.”

“It’s clear, Big Brother,” Jinkke said, arms crossed. “I’m sorry, but it is. Penny is gone, and not by accident. There was no assignment for her, no task, and she took all her equipment with her. You and the sergeant, the only others assigned to watches, seem to have been drugged with something, and now his jade is missing.” She looked to Minkus, who caught a momentary flash of gentleness in her eyes. “Penny stole the jade, Big Brother.”

Minkus looked around the group. The other asura showed a variety of expressions: logical resignation, sympathy, and something like disgust, but it was clear they had all made up their minds.

It was Ventyr who seemed torn, almost angrily so, scowling down at his own crossed arms. “It does seem that way,” he mused. His gaze rose toward the northern road to Lion’s Arch and then returned to the four asura around him. Ventyr looked from one to the next, starting with Minkus and sliding finally to a long pause on Skixx. “But Minkus has a point. Appearances aside, there are other potential explanations, and it would hardly be just to pass judgement without making as complete an investigation as we can.”

Jinkke and Skixx flashed curious glances almost in tandem. “I’m sorry,” Skixx said, “but I don’t follow your implication, Sergeant. What fuller investigation is there to complete?”

Before Ventyr could form a full word, Yissa popped forward, cutting him off. “Right you are, Sergeant,” she said, wagging a finger at him approvingly. “However likely the human’s guilt may be, true caution would not assume that one still in our ranks is not connected to the crime, and with such valuable artifacts on the line, we can only responsibly take the truest of cautions. My ears, we’re talking about mursaat jade, people. Mursaat jade! In terms of rarity and historical significance, this mineral trumps all others—perhaps with the exception of bloodstone. But that’s hardly a naturally occurring mineral. True, mursaat jade ceases to be strictly natural once imbued with mursaat magics, but as I’ve postulated—”

Ventyr cleared his throat.

“Yes, yes,” Yissa agreed, catching herself. She paced, waving a hand in postulation. “As I was saying, as official liaison to the Priory, I concur with the sergeant’s assertion that our investigation has been less than satisfactory. To be complete, it must include the search of each one of us, instead of the assumption that the missing human is inherently to blame. In reality, it could be you!” She pointed accusingly at Jinkke. “Or you.” With a sorrowful eye, she looked to Minkus. “Or you,” she said, sneering at Skixx. Startling herself, she jabbed a plump finger into her own chest. “Or it could be me! Not that it is. I would never steal something of such significance, but none of you can know that with any certainty, now can you?”

Skixx harrumphed. “Alchemy, you can’t be serious. All logic points to—”

“All logic,” Jinkke interjected, “points to precisely what they’re saying. We must rule out all possible false negatives.” Ventyr and Yissa nodded agreement. Minkus shrugged. It sounded reasonable.

Looking around, Skixx raised his hands. “Fine,” he said. “Then what’s our strategy?”

“We start with— the sergeant,” Yissa wheeled around to point at Ventyr. “By bringing up this necessary check, you may well have thought to exempt yourself, so you will be our first suspect.”

“Him?” Jinkke asked, hands on her hips. “You think the thief is the one who’s held the jade the entire time?”

The other female shook her head, which in turn shook her whole frame. “In factuality I have no expectation of finding anything in the sergeant’s possession. But that assumption could well be the foundation upon which he built his entire stratagem!” She turned to point at the sylvari again. He frowned subtly. In their many days together, Minkus had never seen such clear emotion from him.

“Alright, alright,” Jinkke broke in. “I propose we perform the task sequentially.” She spoke as though her plan were one she employed every day, pointing first at Yissa and then the others as she mentioned them. “You search the sergeant; the sergeant searches Minkus; Minkus searches Skixx to avoid any family favoritism between the two of us; Skixx searches me; and I search you. With everyone watching and everyone responsible for searching, no one is beyond accountability.” She seemed to catch herself. “With your approval, Sergeant?”

Ventyr nodded his acquiescence, a gesture Scholar Yissa imitated with much greater animation. She motioned everyone to collect their bags, and they did so. The sylvari raised his arms. “Continue,” he instructed, and Yissa began her search.

One by one, they passed the task of patting each other down and shuffling through each other’s belongings. It was surprisingly uncomfortable, and not just because Skixx seemed alight with disdain as Minkus felt him for the stolen jade. That was certainly disquieting: the smaller asura’s eyes locked on his scornfully, almost mockingly throughout the process, even when Minkus tried to avoid eye contact altogether. More than that, though, the overwhelming sense of suspicion and an undercurrent of judgement on Penny twisted at Minkus like a stomach full of bad meat. Those feelings consumed the space, and all Minkus wanted was the relief of knowing no one here had done what they were all being accused of. He caught sight of the gulls drifting on the wind high overhead again, and for just a moment, he breathed freely.

His attention returned to the group when he realized they’d all gone silent. The search was complete, and no one’s eyes met anyone else’s. A breeze blew through, swaying the patches of grass about their feet. It was the only sound Minkus heard as Ventyr turned away, his whole body stiff. The twist returned to Minkus’ gut.

“That confirms the assertion,” Yissa said coldly, her eyes rising from the grass to follow the pacing sylvari. “Unless we were robbed by a passerby or a delinquent crab, it must have been the human.”

Jinkke turned to gaze questioningly up the road, calculating something, and Skixx knelt to repack his bag with the belongings that had been removed in the search. Ventyr continued to pace, tightening and releasing his fists repeatedly. The air seemed to ripple around him.

Crossing her arms and putting a hand to her chin, Yissa moved toward him. “Now, Sergeant, the question is how we react to this betrayal. I do not believe the woman had access to the transmaterialization network, which would limit her escape routes to—”

“But why?” Minkus blurted.

Everyone turned, and he threw his hands to his mouth, surprised by his own outburst. Slowly lowering them, Minkus allowed himself to continue, more quietly this time. “Why?” he repeated. “Why would Penny do that? Why now? Why at all?”

Ventyr finally turned back. He looked at them all levelly, but there was still something of a heatwave Minkus saw dancing around him. “That,” he agreed, “is the missing piece.”

Skixx had been packing his bag, looking hardly engaged, but something came to him, and he cleared his throat, stepping forward to join the conversation again. “There was a point of conversation yesterday that might give answer to that question. Penny did ask about the monetary value of your jade stones, Sergeant.” He shrugged slightly, almost apologetically. “I’d considered it benign at the time, but it seems far more suspect now.” Others nodded as the memory came back to everyone.

“Yes,” Yissa said, her eyes widening in horror. “And I gave her all the information it would take to stimulate her criminal urges. I cost us the greatest find of our generation! If only I had considered—”

“Scholar, stop,” Ventyr said, taking a grip on her shoulder. It was as much an instruction as a request. “Whether for money or pride or any other reason, it’s irrelevant. It seems Penny has achieved whatever she was after, but we don’t have time to pursue that.” He paused, flexing his jaw. The waves in the air danced more excitedly. “Jade or not,” Ventyr went on, “our objective is still to provide our intelligence to the Vigil camp in Brisban. That saves lives; jade shards do not. If we pack and leave now, we may yet make it to Lion’s Arch by nightfall.”

“But Ventyr,” Minkus began, stepping toward him. “Penny is our friend. She wouldn’t—”

“For all intents and purposes, Minkus, she did. And we’re leaving, so I suggest you finish packing.”

With that, Ventyr turned away and began to roll his mat, keeping it as straight and tight as ever. No one else spoke, all stooping toward whatever task was closest at hand. Minkus slumped forward, closing his eyes. With a sigh, he turned and headed past the remains of the campfire to his own mat, gently kicking the sand as he went.

A few steps in, though, Minkus paused, leaning toward the charred branches and ash that had been their fire the night before. There, at the edge of a blackened log, one tiny flame flickered to life. A thin line of smoke rose from it, getting caught in the breeze. He could have sworn that fire had been out, but there it was. The air around the flame rippled, more hotly than a it should for a fire so impossibly small. Minkus looked back over his shoulder at Ventyr, who knelt before his rolled mat, fists tight and eyes closed, seeming to force deep breaths into a controlled rhythm. That rhythm matched the flicker of the flame.

Minkus sighed and continued his course, kneeling down to roll his own mat. “They have to be wrong,” he whispered. “They have to be.”