Cullen's suggestion had proved remarkably accurate. The dwarf was in the Hanged Man, at the table next to the fireplace, playing Wicked Grace. The only way it could have been easier was if the Champion had been there as well.
They'd taken over the Hawke Estate. They needed a base of operations and perhaps they'd get lucky and stumble over a clue. Guard-Captain Aveline had been all but hostile. Cullen had mentioned they were more likely to get cooperation from the dwarf, as Aveline was a remarkably stubborn and hard headed woman. Between the fact he'd made the statement respectfully and that Aveline was apparently the only thing keeping the fragile city-state together, they'd decided to focus their attention on Varric Tethras.
Cassandra had ordered him brought in by the guards. She'd instructed them to be rough, but to not actually hurt him. Leliana had argued for a polite invitation, but as Cassandra had pointed out, if Varric were inclined to cooperate, he'd have answered the letter Cullen had sent.
Leliana chose her place carefully. She could see and hear everything that went on, but Varric would not be able to see her. The guards threw him into a chair.
"I've had gentler invitations," he said, holding his head.
"I am Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker of the Chantry," Cassandra gestured, and the guards left the room.
Varric watched them go. "And just... what are you seeking?"
"The Champion."
"Which one?"
Leliana shook her head. Varric reminded her a little of Brosca. She wanted to signal Cassandra, let her know intimidation was not going to work.
"You know exactly why I'm here!" Cassandra put a blade to Varric's throat. "Time to start talking, dwarf. They tell me you're good at it." She withdrew the dagger, and stabbed it through the book on the dwarf's lap.
Varric picked up the book, and looked at it. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything. Start at the beginning."
The dwarf shrugged, and started to tell a story. He did have skill at the art, Leliana had to admit. He and Brehan would have... She shook her head. She could not get bogged down by memories now. It was a good story. Spells. Swords. A dragon.
"Bullshit. That's not what really happened!"
"Does that not match the story you've heard, Seeker?" He would know. Most of the stories about the Champion could be traced back to him.
"I'm not interested in stories. I came to hear the truth."
Varric shrugged. "What makes you think I know the truth?"
"Don't lie to me! You knew him even before he became the Champion!"
Varric held up his hands as Cassandra advanced on him. "Even if I did, I don't know where he is now."
That much, at least, might be true. They'd tried hunting the Champion shortly after he'd initially vanished. She and Brehan had swept the Free Marches, even called in Brosca to aid the hunt. The trail had been cold.
"Do you have any idea what's at stake here?"
The dwarf smirked. "Let me guess: your precious Chantry's fallen to pieces and put the entire world on the brink of war?" He gestured. "And you need the one person who could help you put it back together."
His statement was more true than she'd like to admit. They'd tried to convince Lenore to come to the conclave. The mage's return letter had given her apologies, but she'd admitted that she would not come because she simply did not believe the conclave would work, and that her voice would not be enough to change that. But the Champion...
"The Champion was at the heart of it when it all began." Cassandra narrowed her eyes. "If you can't point me to him, tell me everything you know."
"You aren't worried I'll just make it up as I go?"
"Not at all."
Varric leaned back, folding his hands. His manner was more confident now. A born storyteller, in his natural element. "Well, then. You'll need to hear the whole story."