The door to the Skyhold dungeon creaked open at Leliana's touch, and she slipped through it and down to the bend in the stairs. The lone guard on duty reached for her sword, but Leliana raised the lantern in her hand and opened a shutter so that it lit her face and tightly bound red hair. The guard relaxed when she recognized the former Left Hand of the Divine, and Leliana gracefully descended the stairs to meet her.
She whispered, "You never saw me here. Do you understand?"
The guard nodded, and Leliana moved across the room and knelt by the far door. She held the lantern up to the door and examined it closely, finding nothing of note. Placing the lantern on the ground, she produced a thin wire from a pouch at her side. She slid it under the door, moved it from side to side, and smiled as the wire met resistance. She had been right to be cautious.
She pulled an oblong piece of metal from another pouch, then carefully opened the door a crack, sliding the metal bar into place to support the object leaning on the door. She listened carefully at the crack, but heard only the distant moan of the wind. Slowly, she pulled the door open further, still supporting board that had been propped against it, a bag of something - probably bits of iron - tied to its top end. A crude alarm, but a cunning one - just as she had expected from the occupant.
Leliana gently lowered the apparatus to the ground and stepped through the door. The room beyond lay exposed to the night. Much of the flooring had long since given way and disappeared down the mountainside. The moonlight dimly illuminated the form of a woman lying on a threadbare blanket, scant feet away from a plummet into the night. Her hair was dark and close-cropped, and red paint was visible on her face. Her right hand rested on the pommel of an immense sword. She perfectly matched the description Leliana had been given of Tamar.
Leliana drew her dagger and crept closer to Tamar, who did not stir. When Leliana was close enough, she wrapped her free hand around the hilt of Tamar's sword and yanked it away from her, tossing it into a corner with a clatter. Tamar's eyes flew open and her hand spasmed, grasping for a sword that wasn't there. Her other hand balled into a fist, and her muscles tensed to strike - then she became very still as the moonlight reflected off Leliana's knife at her throat.
"Stay still," Leliana said. "I mean you no harm." Half a lie.
Tamar's lips curved upward. "Ah, I'm to consider you a friendly knife at my throat, then?" she asked, her tone sardonic.
"My name is Lel-"
"I know who you are. Spymaster, they call you. Or Left Hand, even now that you're the hand of a dead woman. But I've long known you by other names." Her voice grew louder and more bitter. "Assassin. Butcher. Murderer."
"I understand your anger, Tamar," Leliana said in her most placatory tone. Her left hand closed on the hilt of her other dagger, ready to strike if Tamar made a move.
Tamar's lips curved again, a mocking half-smile. "I think you don't. Has a 'Hero' slaughtered your family and your friends? Did you flee with your brother's dying screams in your ears? Are the killers of your family lionized for the deed? Live through that and then I'll believe that you understand."
"Is that your plan?" Leliana asked. "To make me suffer? To get revenge for Kolgrim and the others?"
Tamar sighed. "I've killed enough of your Chantry folk to know that vengeance is hollow. You and everyone you love will die, sooner or later, and go into the dirt or the flames to be forgotten. It is the way of things. It will happen with or without me."
The words were philosophical, but Leliana heard fury in her tone. She wondered if there was any way that Tamar could convince her that she wasn't a threat. Perhaps it would be best to end it now. One slash with the knife, a kick into the depths below, and all signs of the reaver's presence here would vanish into the night. Cullen would be suspicious, but Leliana could handle him.
She found herself strangely reluctant to do it. Scruples, Leliana? You have some left?
"You clearly hold a grudge against me. How can I believe you won't turn on us?"
Tamar's laugh echoed from the remaining walls and the mountainsides. It was a hollow, mirthless sound.
"You should be grateful for the rage and hate I have for you. Without them, I would be a hollow shell, no good to you and your Inquisition. My hate pulls me from my bedroll in the morning. My rage fuels the destruction of your enemies. If that rage and hate went away? Then I would have nothing." Her voice almost broke on the last word, and she glared at Leliana as if daring her to comment on it.
"I spent months locked up under the Chantry. More than long enough to know I don't want to die in a cell. Or on the executioner's gibbet, or to having my throat slit in the shadows. I want to die gloriously, in battle against a great foe. Your Commander and your bloody-handed Inquisition are giving me that chance. I won't throw it away." Her voice was raw, and Leliana heard years of grief and pain and loneliness in it. She knew Tamar was telling the truth.
Leliana pulled her dagger away from Tamar's throat, but kept it ready in her hand. Tamar kept looking at her as if expecting the blow to fall. When it did not, she stood stiffly and moved to the corner to retrieve her sword.
"You don't have to stay down here," Leliana said. "There's room in the barracks."
Tamar shook her head. "Couldn't sleep there. Too many people, too much warmth and noise. And here, I can look at the cells and remember that I'm not in them."
"Is there anything else you need?"
Tamar glared at Leliana. "If you're not going to kill me, go away and let me sleep."
"Sleep well," Leliana said.
"GO," Tamar gritted out.
Leliana took the stairs up slowly, considering. Tamar was sincere, she believed it - but people could still change their minds. Her agents would need to watch Tamar. Perhaps they could report whether she was friendly - or, at least, less hostile - with any of the other recruits. If so, Leliana could nudge Cullen to team them on missions. Yes, give Tamar the chance to build some positive bonds with others, and perhaps Tamar could find something other than bloodshed to live for.
It was the practical course to take, keeping Tamar's services while minimizing the risk. If it occurred to her that it was also a way to make amends, she never admitted it, not even to herself.