Preceded by The Broad Road, First Milestone: Transgression

Chapter 2: Ambition

Zevran parried the genlock's slash with his dagger and stabbed it in the gut with his sword. It fell to the ground howling and Zevran turned away, ducking a swing from a hurlock's sword. They had been ambushed on a simple resupply trip, and things had gone very wrong very quickly. Zevran sidled towards the glowing glyph of warding that Blair had placed on the ground where Alistair had been until a moment ago when he'd gone charging after a genlock. Instead of following Alistair, most of the remaining darkspawn had turned to attack the rest of the party. Zevran had three hurlocks trying to surround him. He glanced back over his shoulder to see another pair heading towards Blair and Leliana.

They were on their own, he thought grimly, parrying another blow and driving back one hurlock with a slash of his sword. He was in the glyph of warding and could feel its warmth on his skin, but was quickly being forced out of the glyph by the three hurlocks. He parried another slash and counterattacked, landing a shallow stab to the hurlock's rib cage before he had to jump back to avoid another hurlock's swing. The injured hurlock snarled and lunged wildly. Zevran twisted aside and brought his dagger down in a vicious slash. The hurlock staggered back screaming, its arm cut to the bone.

The third hurlock jumped forward and brought its club down on Zevran's arm before he could pull it back. He heard a crack as the bones broke, and screamed as searing pain lanced up his arm. His dagger dropped from his hand. Backpedaling, he managed to get out of range of a sword stroke that would have disemboweled him. He stepped inside the hurlock's guard and stabbed it through the heart, jumping back as the hurlock with the injured arm took a cut at him.

Zevran parried another sword slash and dodged a swing from the other hurlock's club. Without his second weapon he was at a grave disadvantage. He risked a quick glance back. Leliana stood in a glyph of repulsion, drawing her bow. Blair was not in the glyph–he was running towards Zevran. Zevran snapped his eyes forward in time to parry another slash, his hand stinging from the impact. The other hurlock swung its club again, too close upon the other hurlock's attack for Zevran to raise his sword to block it. The club crashed into his chest, knocking him on his back. His sword flew from his hand. He started to roll and draw his other dagger, ignoring the white-hot shock of pain from his broken arm. But the hurlock was stepping forward, sword raised, and he wouldn't be fast enough.

Then a blast of ice caught the two hurlocks and they staggered back. Zevran started to struggle to his feet when blinding pain suddenly filled his arm. He could hear the grinding sound of the ends of the bones shifting against each other, and dropped back to his knees, struggling to stay conscious. When the pain started to fade he realized he was leaning his palm on the ground for support, and his arm was bearing his weight.

Blair hit the closest hurlock with a bolt of lightning and Zevran scrambled to his feet and finished it off with a stab to the chest. He swapped his dagger to his off hand and scooped up his sword. The other hurlock swung at him and he parried, then counterattacked, knocking the club from its hands. He followed up with two stabs to the chest with his off-hand before neatly driving his sword through the hurlock's heart.

He heard a hurlock roar behind him and turned just as it ran up behind Blair. The hurlock grabbed his braid and yanked backwards, jerking Blair off his feet and raising its sword. Blair started to cast a spell, but he couldn't cast in time to stop the hurlock's sword from falling. Zevran lunged for the hurlock, knocking its blade aside as it swung down at Blair's neck. The deflected blade struck Blair on the side of his head over his ear. The hurlock dropped Blair and turned on Zevran, swinging its sword two-handed at him. Zevran didn't try to parry the massive blow, but leaped back. The tip of the blade just barely caught him, slashing through his armor and drawing a line of searing pain across his abdomen.

Suddenly it froze in mid-step, caught in a paralysis spell, and its momentum carried it forward, crashing into the ground by Zevran's feet. He killed it with a stab in the back, then looked back towards Blair. He was standing, but a sheet of blood covered half his head and neck. With a look of grim concentration, he was beginning to cast another spell at the lone remaining hurlock. It was swinging its maul at Leliana. Zevran started towards the two as Leliana shot it in the throat, but the hurlock's swing carried through and the maul's head smashed into her ribcage and sent her flying. The spell, a cone of cold, struck the hurlock a moment later. Reaching the stunned hurlock, Zevran stabbed it in the back. Leaving it dying on the ground, he went to Leliana.

Her eyes were wide, and bloody foam came from her mouth when she breathed. Only one side of her rib cage seemed to be filling with air as she breathed, the other had two many broken ribs to inflate properly. Zevran crouched beside her, but there was nothing he could do to help, besides offer a draught of one of the poisons he carried in his pack if her injuries proved untreatable.

Blair knelt beside him and began casting a healing spell. As the magic took hold Leliana first screamed, spraying a mist of blood on Zevran's armor, and then relaxed as the pain eased. Blair had to repeat the casting before she was able to sit up.

Blair then turned to Zevran. "Maker, you look horrific," Zevran said. Blair had apparently healed the cut over his ear, but blood still covered half his face and stained his robe.

"You don't look much better," Blair replied tersely, casting a healing spell on Zevran. The cut across his stomach and his other various bruises shot a bolt of pain through him before fading away to a mild ache.

Blair stood and strode to Alistair, who had come up behind them and stood watching with an anxious expression. "What the fuck was that?" Blair shouted. "You almost got us all killed! If I have two hurlocks after me I shouldn't have to leave my glyph of repulsion to keep Zevran from getting killed while you're chasing a fucking genlock! And if I cast a glyph of warding you do not leave it unless I tell you to. I don't care if an ogre knocks you out of it, you get off your ass and plant yourself back in that glyph until it expires! You're fucking useless! I should have left you at camp!"

Alistair had been looking mortified, but at this tirade he shouted back, "Who made you dictator?!"

"You did, you moron! Right from the time Duncan died you've been chickening out any time someone had to make a decision. You put me in charge, so when I tell you what to do you fucking do it!"

"I don't have to listen to this!" Alistair turned and started walking away.

"I can make you stay and listen to it!"

Alistair spun on his heel and his hand dropped to his sword hilt. "Do you want to see what Templars do to mages first hand?" he snarled.

Zevran straightened, preparing to charge Alistair from behind if he attacked Blair. Leliana beside him had sprung to her feet with surprising agility, but from the way her narrowed eyes focused on Blair it looked like she had a different target in mind. His lips tightened–Alistair was the priority, he could deal with her later if it came to that.

Fortunately it did not. Blair bit his lip and said quietly, "I'm sorry, I should not have said that. I will not use magic against any of you. If I were to you would be justified in killing me."

Alistair dropped his hand from his sword hilt but did not reply. He walked to Leliana and said, "I apologize for putting you in danger." He turned to Zevran and said ungraciously, "You too." Ignoring Blair, he strode back down the trail. Leliana stared at Blair for a moment and then followed Alistair.

Blair turned away and began searching the nearest darkspawn corpse. He pocketed a few coins, kicked aside the creature's sword, and moved on to the next darkspawn. This one stirred as he started to rifle its pockets and he straightened up with an annoyed sigh. Blue light spat from his hands into the genlock's chest, and it was still. Zevran cleaned his weapons and sheathed them, including his recovered dagger, then began searching the other darkspawn.

He found a polished malachite in the first darkspawn's pockets and asked, "Why do you suppose they carry around these gemstones? Do they keep them because they are pretty?"

For a moment Blair was silent and then said, "Maker knows."

Zevran turned to Blair. "Are you all right?"

"Just drop it!" Blair snapped.

"Very well." Zevran turned, annoyed, and started to search the next hurlock corpse.

"Wait." Blair paused. "I'm sorry. That was an awful battle, for no good reason. Three of us almost died. Then I succeeded in alienating two of the party–and when they get back to camp I'm sure Wynne will be annoyed with me too. Morrigan will just laugh at all of us," he said bitterly.

Zevran hesitated. He did not want to get mired in the group's problems, and with Blair's temper interference was liable to produce a similar outburst. But since he was traveling with them, it was his life also on the line. He said, "Right now you are just a group of people that happen to be heading the same direction, not a unified party."

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"There is no clear leadership. It seems the burden has fallen on you as no one else wants to carry it, and perhaps you are not sure how to handle it?"

Blair's face grew stormy, and Zevran expected him to lash out, but instead he said, "I don't know what I'm doing! In the Circle the most I had to do was lead a couple apprentices to the library to work on a group project. Then I get thrown out here and everyone tells me, 'Oh, you decide what to do, I can't be bothered.'"

Zevran smiled. "I don't think it's just that no one else wants to lead. I doubt you'd make a very good follower."

"Well, then, since you think I'm fucking it up and I can't defeat the Archdemon alone, what do you think I should do?"

"Perhaps excercise a little more patience?" Zevran suggested cautiously. "Alistair's mistake was serious, and should have been addressed in front of Leliana and me, but you did not need to embarrass him so publicly. Just the knowledge that his actions nearly got Leliana killed will cause him to think next time.

"Speaking of Alistair, he is well-liked by Wynne and Leliana, so his good opinion will go a long way towards swaying them. "

"Yes, Alistair." Blair sighed. "I have my own reasons for wanting to be on his good side, which I suppose I should remember."

"Why is that?"

"I believe it dates from our arrival in Redcliffe, when I first learned that his father was King Maric," Blair said wryly. Zevran stared unbelievingly. "What, you did not know that? He does not like to mention it, but I assumed you'd heard from someone. Yes, he is the heir presumptive."

"Alistair would make a . . . truly awful king," Zevran eventually said.

Blair cocked his head. "I think it all depends upon who he has as his advisor. But let's not get ahead of ourselves." The two finished searching the darkspawn corpses in silence, and headed down the trail toward camp. They met up with Alistair and Leliana a short distance down the trail, where they had apparently stopped to talk. Neither said anything, but Leliana smiled brightly as the two elves approached.

"You two will have to see Wynne when we get back to camp, to make sure the magic set the bones right," Blair said. "And be careful for the next couple weeks or they could break again. Magic can only do so much."

"Thanks, Blair," Leliana said, giving Blair a genuine smile. She glanced at Alistair, and might have said more if it would not have upset him. She seemed to have forgiven Blair for his outburst, and Zevran hoped Alistair would follow her lead. He looked morose at the reminder of Leliana and Zevran's injuries, but said nothing.

They walked back to camp in seemingly companionable silence. Zevran's mind, however, was fixed solely upon Blair. The mage seemed to have ambitions far beyond anything that Zevran had ever conceived.

Zevran's interests in the past focused upon the elegant execution of contracts, dining upon good food, and keeping company with beautiful women, or, occasionally, men. His situation was now completely different. Darkspawn did not require much in the way of finesse. He'd had one opportunity to creep up behind an emissary and drop it to the ground bleeding from multiple wounds in the first few seconds of combat, but mostly the few skirmishes they'd been in since Redcliffe involved executing maximum damage upon the maximum number of targets in the minimum amount of time. The food, well, that was variable. Morrigan could be an excellent cook, but they had run out of spices a few days ago, and she was limited by what they could find to put in the pot in the first place. The company? Leliana was a beautiful woman, but as friendly as she was seemed to have deeply-grounded assumptions about the role of elves that were hard for her to shake. Zevran was sometimes bemused that she managed to follow Blair's directions at all, but supposed that it might help that he was both a mage and a Gray Warden. Morrigan? She was a shapeshifter and could turn into a spider, and everyone knew those ate their mates.

Blair, on the other hand, interested him. He was handsome enough, liked a good joke, but was hard-mindedly pragmatic. Alistair had wanted Zevran dead but couldn't kill him himself, but if Blair had decided Zevran was better off dead he would have killed him and headed on towards Redcliffe without a second thought. Zevran respected that. Blair also was no stickler for the rules, as their late-night trip to the dungeons to help the blood mage escape testified. His willingness to flout the orders of the Circle, the Chantry, and the nobility suggested his company might lead to adventures on the wrong side of the law–or perhaps the noose. But that kind of danger was something Zevran was used to, and he thrived upon it.

Moreover, he thought that Blair might be interested in Zevran himself. He didn't appear to be attracted to Leliana or Morrigan. Alistair obviously found Morrigan attractive, and tried to cover it up by returning her insults with equal enthusiasm. But when Zevran caught Blair staring at Morrigan's breasts it appeared to be with an academic interest about whether she was about to fall out of her shirt or not. And that night in Redcliffe when Zevran had answered the door to his room naked he could swear there was something more in Blair's stare than just acute embarrassment. When Zevran joked with Blair, it had the taste of flirting.

And now to find that Blair had aspirations of putting someone on the throne of Ferelden whom he hoped to have some influence over! Definitely, Blair was becoming more and more interesting.

Zevran began to seek opportunities to talk to the mage. There were plenty to be had, since the trip to Denerim to search for Brother Genitivi was a long one. The group fell into a traveling routine, with Alistair and Wynne walking together while Zevran walked with Blair and his mabari, and Leliana flitted back and forth between the two sets. Morrigan sometimes walked with Blair and Zevran, or sometimes shapeshifted into a fox or hawk and ventured into the forest. Sten usually traveled without speaking to the others, and either led the party or took up the rear.

Blair was very curious about Zevran's life as a Crow. At first Zevran was not sure how to respond. He was tempted to give Blair a sanitized version. There were many stories he could have told that he imagined would cause Blair to immediately ask him to leave, and that was a risk he could not take. But he found that Blair received the little that he did tell him with such equanimity that he began to test to see what would shock him. He chose the story of the mage he had been hired to kill who had nearly succeeded in tricking him into letting her escape. He got to the part of the story where the mage begged for him to spare her life and offered to have sex with him as a delaying tactic when Blair interrupted.

"What, you raped her?"

"Certainly not!" Zevran said, stung. "I did not force her, she offered."

"Yes, because you were going to kill her."

"She was fighting back the best way she knew how. Indeed, she used the opportunity to try to kill me twice. I would not deny my targets the chance to defend themselves, nor deny them some pleasure before death, if that is their desire."

"So you had sex with her and then killed her?"

"Well, that was the initial plan."

"If the outcome's a foregone conclusion, just turn her down and kill her." Blair raised his voice, and Zevran glanced around, not wishing anyone else to overhear their conversation. "How could you put someone through that humiliation?"

Zevran was rattled. "If I had thought she felt that way I would have. But I don't think she did. I certainly made sure she enjoyed it."

"And then killed her," Blair said curtly.

"No, actually. She actually managed to talk me into interceding on her behalf with the Crows, in between . . . other activities. So I would say she won that encounter." Blair actually stopped and stared at him in surprise. "I was very young, only fifteen," Zevran said, by way of excuse. "Other similar encounters since then have not ended the same way."

"So what happened?"

"Something that seemed very unfortunate at the time. The next morning as I kissed her goodbye she fell out of the carriage and broke her neck. She died instantly. There was nothing else for me to do, so I reported her death to my master. The Crows were quite pleased that I managed to make the death look like an accident."

"Were you upset?" Blair sounded completely perplexed, the whole scenario outside his realm of experience.

"I was more disappointed. But that was before I learned that she told the driver to take her away to the provinces. She planned to give me the slip, which would leave me to explain things to the Crows. You know they don't take failure lightly, and most certainly would have used me as an object lesson for the other young Crows. So I suppose I was rather lucky, in fact. And it taught me a lesson, not to let a pretty face go to my head."

"I don't understand how it is possible to have sex with someone and then kill them, especially if they know what you have planned."

"I suppose not. . . To me, sex is like dancing or dueling. It's something that requires practice, agility, and a certain amount of strength. But it's something that can be done equally well with a friend or an enemy. I suppose it was not always this way, and perhaps I forget that not everyone thinks of it so. I hope I am not a cruel man, and I will consider this. . ."

They were interrupted by the sound of raised voices towards the front of the group. Zevran and Blair had been lagging behind, Greagoir padding after them, and sped up to see what was going on. Sten was waiting farther up the road, while the rest of the party gathered behind Alistair and Morrigan. Alistair stood in the road, sword drawn, with Morrigan facing him with a look of contempt. On the dusty road near them coiled a black snake, hissing at the people gathered around it.

"So typical, Alistair. You fear something, so your first reaction is to kill it," Morrigan sneered.

"But it's a snake! And I'm not afraid of it," Alistair objected. "Just–it's a snake. You kill snakes," he said, but sheathed his sword.

"And why? Do you fear it will fling itself around your neck and strangle you?"

"Fine then, leave it!" Alistair said with embarrassed annoyance, and started down the road. Leliana and Wynne followed him, skirting widely around the snake.

Morrigan turned to them and said superciliously, "I suppose you'd like to kill it too?"

Blair ignored her, looking at the snake in amazement. "I've never seen a snake." Greagoir pricked his ears and barked, staring at the snake, and Blair put his hand on the dog's neck to still it.

Zevran smiled at his awed expression and headed towards it. Morrigan put her staff in front of him to block him, and he stopped short and said, "I'm not going to harm it." Morrigan sniffed, but turned and followed the others down the road.

The snake had uncoiled and started to slither away, and Zevran caught its tail and then swiftly grabbed it behind the head. Turning to Blair, he held the snake out. "Would you like to hold it?"

He had half thought that Blair might refuse, but he stretched out his hand and touched the rough scales. "Here, take it behind the head." Blair mimicked his grip, and soon Zevran had the snake uncoiled from his wrist and handed over.

"It's beautiful," said Blair. "I'd always thought they must be ugly animals, from what I read in books." With his free hand he loosened some of the coils the snake had thrown around his wrist.

"Most kinds are beautiful, in their way. There is one in Antiva that is banded red, yellow, and black, like some kind of enameled necklace. But its venom is among the most deadly in the country. This one is not venomous, but there are others in Ferelden that are."

"You take an interest in snakes?"

"Of course. The Crows often use snake venom in their poisons. As a child I learned to milk the venom from their fangs. Poisons are one of my specialties, so I am familiar with all of the venomous species of Thedas."

Blair's admiration of the snake hardly lessened when it defecated some very foul-smelling excrement on his wrist. "I think it's time to let it go," he said, wrinkling his nose. The two untangled the snake and Blair put it down, stepping back quickly when he released its head. But it just slithered rapidly into the brush by the road, disappearing with a final flick of its tail. Fall was approaching, so it was probably seeking somewhere to hide from the winter's cold.

Blair held his arm out from him with a look of distaste. "Now I just need to find a stream," he said. Greagoir sniffed him and panted, wagging his tail approvingly. Zevran laughed at Blair's expression, and they followed the others down the road.

"So what poisons are made with snake venom?" Blair asked as they slowly caught up with the others.

Zevran described the different types of poisons, ranging from poisons that would kill in a matter of minutes to those that caused a long, tormented death. "There is little use for these slow-acting poisons in assassination, however. The slower the course, the more chance there is that someone will realize the antidote, or that medical treatment or healing magic will help preserve the victim's life. These poisons are more often used by someone with a personal motivation, seeking revenge. In an assassination the goal is to kill as quickly as possible."

"No one ever asks that the Crows use such poisons as a way of sending a message to their enemies?"

"I have heard of cases like this. Usually the poisons used are ingested, because symptoms are delayed. This both gives the assassin time to get away and ensures that by the time symptoms appear, it is too late to purge the poison. Amanita mushrooms are frequently chosen for this purpose. But in general such poisons are the tool of a murderer with a very personal grudge. I stick with a dagger and a good, fast poison."

Blair nodded thoughtfully but said nothing. Zevran looked at him questioningly. "So, this talk of assassination does not bother you?" Zevran asked.

"I don't like it, but I suppose it happens. And no doubt some of the people you've killed deserved to die."

"A good many of them, I think," Zevran said. "Yet some did not."

"Does that bother you?"

Zevran shrugged. "I try to avoid unnecessary death. Guards, no, they just add to the challenge! But others, harmless ones, I try not to kill. It does happen sometimes, but then death comes to everyone. I am merely at times the instrument."

"So you don't care."

"One does not become a Crow by indulging such sentiments. Either you learn to set them aside, or you die."

Blair narrowed his lips and shot Zevran a sidelong glance, but did not pursue the subject. Zevran was grateful. It was in truth not something he understood himself. Sometimes he was able to kill a person because he simply knew he must to complete the mission, but at other times, he felt as if he truly were an instrument, used by someone else, delivering death without self-direction.

The conversation seemed to have died down. They had caught up with the others and Blair broke away to talk to Leliana, leaving Zevran to walk on alone. Zevran thought Blair was probably regretting the conversation. Yet he felt unwilling to lie to Blair about who he was. He hoped Blair could tolerate being on friendly terms, but if not, well, it was better to know now.

The next morning as they broke camp a light drizzle was falling, and threatening to turn to rain. This type of weather was typical in Ferelden, especially as the seasons changed, but very unlike what he was accustomed to in Antiva. Zevran pulled his hood over his head and shouldered his pack. He stood by the ashes of the campfire, which Morrigan had conscientiously extinguished with pond water in spite of the rain, and waited for the rest of the group to gather. Blair came up to him, staff in one hand and something held in the other.

"I thought I'd give this to you," he said, holding out his hand, not quite looking at Zevran.

Zevran took the object and examined it. It was a small flask, corked, with wax around the cork, and a wire tightly clamping to the cork to the neck of the flask for good measure. A small tag on the wire read "Adder's Kiss". He smiled, recognizing the formulation. "Thank you," he said.

"It's nothing. I found it some time back and thought it should go to someone who could use it." Strangely, Blair seemed a little embarrassed.

"I appreciate it. It's a very good poison." He grinned and cocked his head. "And now I can say that you gave me a kiss."

Blair hurried away wordlessly. No snide comment? And a shyly given, curiously apt gift. Unless he was badly mistaken, it looked like the elven mage was interested in him. It was an unexpected development after the previous night's conversation, but not an unwelcome one. He slid the flask into a pocket on his pack and headed out with the rest of the group, finding himself in a better mood than he had anticipated.

Followed by The Broad Road, Second Interlude: An Evening at the Opera