Guild Wars_ Ghosts of Ascalon - Matt Forbeck [24]
Riona was flush with rage now, and for a moment Dougal feared that he had pushed her too far. The new sins were quickly overwhelming the old. She choked out a few words and, glaring at Dougal, finished her ale in a single pull.
“Fine,” she said. “Killeen, born of the Cycle of Night, would you care to join us, at least as far as Lion’s Arch?”
“I’d be honored,” said Killeen.
“Good,” said Dougal. “And, in return, the answer is yes.”
“Yes?” said Riona.
“I promise not to run when I find out what you really want,” said Dougal. “At least until we get to Lion’s Arch.”
The next morning Dougal surveyed the contents of his life, spread out across his bed. The moleskin pouch containing his tools: picks, wrenches, flats, hooks, and skeleton keys. His knife. The few crumpled and tattered notes he had made about Blimm’s tomb. A change of clothes, including a warm cloak, suitable for sleeping in. A new sword, human-made and rough, inside a fine old scabbard, looted from some ruined temple in the Caledon Forest. And the Golem’s Eye, still bound in Killeen’s handkerchief.
Dougal packed light, as always. Everything he owned fit into the worn leather backpack that he’d had with him since his youth in Ebonhawke. After his mother had died here in Divinity’s Reach, he’d gone to live with his father in the last human outpost in Ascalon, and his aunt Brinna had given him the pack to carry his belongings in. The backpack had long outlived everyone else in his family and proved trustier than any friend.
The night before had been restless and his dreams were plagued with the faces of the dead. Even while he packed, Dougal still considered the merits of bolting. All he would have to do was not meet Riona in front of Uzolan’s Mechanical Orchestra, as they had agreed. All he had to do was slip out the front gates, or even hide elsewhere in the city, perhaps go to ground in the Canthan district, where she didn’t know anyone. If he ran, he knew that Riona would never find him—at least, not in time. Turn left instead of right when he left his quarters, and he would be gone.
He had buried Ascalon City deep, intent on never returning. Indeed, who would want to go there? The city was wrecked, first by the Searing, then by the Foefire, its inhabitants reduced to ghosts, its walls surrounded by extremely possessive charr.
And yet, he could feel the tug. Of failure. Of the price paid. Of things left undone.
Dougal reached into his shirt, fished out the locket, and looked at it for a long time. He carefully undid the clasp that opened it to reveal a cameo, ivory set against jet, of Vala in profile. Its twin, the one with his portrait, jet on ivory, was lost in Ascalon, along with everything else.
Dougal replaced the locket and carefully packed his gear in the battered backpack, and when he left the building, he turned right, toward the meeting with Riona. A low, thin mist still clung to the streets where the sun had not yet arrived to burn it off.
Both Riona and Killeen were waiting for him at the feet of Uzolan’s Mechanical Orchestra, a frozen explosion of giant hornbells at one end of the festival grounds. It was early, and the orchestra had yet to be activated; its silence left the permanent carnival with an empty, lonely feeling. Bits of excelsior and other debris littered the pavement, and a few workers, fitted with the heavy leather collars of criminals, swept the remains of the previous celebration into larger piles.
The two women were waiting but not talking. Killeen seemed interested in the construction of the clockwork in the orchestra, while Riona paced, her arms folded. The official representative of the Vigil had regained that hard professional look that she had had the day before. Dougal wondered how well she had slept the previous night, now that she knew for sure that the others were well and truly dead.
“It’s time,” Riona said. “Let’s go.” She was just as sour as she’d been yesterday, a thundercloud on an otherwise clear morning. Killeen, of course, was the sun.
“This should be exciting,” Killeen