~::Chapter Three::~

Bethany was worried. Nothing she had ever done in her life yet could compare to what had just transpired. She, her brother, Aveline, and their new friend Varric had just been in the Kirkwall chantry, killing Templars. They had been fighting for a good cause, but that still did not change the fact that there were Templars dead behind them. Templars were people to avoid, not to kill. If anything could put her at risk for discovery, it was certainly that.

There was also the matter of the healer, Anders. Something very strange had happened to him.

"I don't like this, Brother," Bethany said as they retreated from the chantry. Every statue they passed in the courtyard seemed to be watching them, seemed to be accusing them of horrible things. Horrible things that they had, in fact, done.

The young mage shivered, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. "In the chantry, of all places. It's not like killing darkspawn. It's not even like that smuggling work. Those were Templars we were fighting."

Correm, his light blonde hair sticking out oddly under the edge of his helmet above his eyes, turned to look at his sister. She was lagging behind a little bit, panting as she tried to speak and jog at the same time. Immediately, he slowed to match her pace, for which she was grateful. Their companions, Aveline and Varric, likewise slowed.

Maker, she thought. He looks a bit scary right now with those ridiculous tattoos around his eyes.

"I know, Bethany," Correm said, pulling off his helmet and rubbing at his hair vigorously. "But think of it this way: We've just risked life and limb—and your freedom to boot—so that we can have the maps to go on a much more perilous and life-threatening treasure hunt into the darkspawn-infested Deep Roads, into caverns that no person has entered in Andraste knows how long." He raised his eyebrows and gave her a big smile as he tucked the helmet under his arm.

At the blanched look on Bethany's face, Aveline shook her head and slapped Correm across the back of his head. "Really, Hawke!" she chided. "I don't understand how you can be so flippant about this. We've just risked a great deal-"

"That's what I just said," Correm interjected.

"-and we're going to be risking more, later," Aveline continued without stopping. "Don't you understand how much trouble you will have gotten us into if we're caught?"

Varric said, "Oh, lighten up. We can talk ourselves out of anything. Bianca's not worried." He patted his crossbow, his gloved hand making a soft slap against the polished wood.

"The threat of torture and imprisonment makes life that much more exciting, Aveline!" the warrior replied, spreading his hands. He dropped his helmet, and had to stoop to pick it up again.

"We had better get back home," Bethany said quietly, interrupting. "Mother will be worried." She didn't bother to argue with her brother's foolishness. He'd always done everything he could to protect her, and the Deep Roads expedition was very important for their family's survival. She only wished that they'd had a better way, although she had wanted to help Anders's friend. It wasn't her brother's fault that things had gone so horribly wrong. He was just making the aftermath seem less serious. Well, that was how she preferred to look at it, anyway.

Despite the danger, Bethany could not honestly regret what they had been trying to do. She would have done anything to prevent the devastated look on Anders's face. No one should have to feel that pain. The brand on Karl's forehead was such a clear warning, a threat, even a promise. Show the slightest hint of disagreement, the smallest bit of evidence that you were going to be taking some action against the Templars, and they cut you off from everything that made you a whole person.

From what she had been taught, being cut off from the Fade meant that a mage would also not be able to make it beyond to the final resting place when death came. That thought was so terrifying, she didn't have a sufficient way to articulate her feelings about it. No one had the right to commit such an atrocity against another person.

When Karl had turned to them with that glassy stare, and spoken to Anders in that flat voice, Bethany had caught a brief look on her brother's face that had stabbed at her. Interpreting that look had been very difficult, and she had not properly gotten a grasp on it. She thought that she had seen concern there, fear even—for her perhaps—but there had been something else as well. It wasn't something she liked seeing.

"You are absolutely right," he said now, draping an arm across her shoulders and giving her a squeeze. "We'll get you back in time for bed, and then I'll go on to the Hanged Man with Varric here and get right proper pissed. We're walking away from a massacre at the Chantry and didn't get caught, we have reason to celebrate!"

Bethany frowned and sighed at that, but she didn't make a comment, nor did she try to shrug off his heavy arm. She certainly didn't feel like celebrating.

"That's the best idea I've heard all night," Varric said with a grin. "Cheer up, Sunshine. I won't let him overdo it again."

"Well, all right," Bethany said. "But Mother said that she wants him cleaned up before he comes staggering home the next time he gets drunk."

"Wonderful!" Correm grinned and released his sister. "You think a swim in the harbor would do it?"

"Brr-rr!" Varric shuddered in distaste. "Not only would that be freezing, but you may as well bathe in water from the privy. How about we just dunk you in the communal tub a few times?"

"Sounds good to me," Correm nodded, winking at Bethany. "How about you, Aveline? Fancy a draught?"

"As much as I'd love to see you make a moron out of yourself," she said, "we have exercises in the morning. I have to get back to the barracks." Then she muttered, "Besides, shouldn't you go chase down that Anders fellow and get the maps?"

"That's true," Varric said.

The blonde warrior shrugged. "I know where to find him. I'll browbeat him later if necessary."

Bethany fidgeted. "Would you really? He just lost a friend. Please don't treat him unkindly." She hoped that he would show his tactful side in this. Though, if he was going to go get drunk—which was a decision she knew she'd not be able to talk him out of—she suspected that her hopes would be in vain.

"Psh," he waved a hand dismissively. He did not say more about it. That was reassuring, at least. Not everyone was adept at interpreting her brother's responses, but the fact that he hadn't made another joke about it showed her that he wouldn't do such a thing.

Aveline adjusted her armor and hitched up her late husband's shield to hang it from her back and out of the way. "I'm leaving," she stated. "I suppose I can spread false reports of 'miscreants' to blame this on." She gave Correm a stern look, as if he had orchestrated the whole thing simply to make life more difficult for her.

"But we are miscreants," Correm noted. Bethany found that she could hardly disagree with him on that point, at least as far as current circumstances went.

"Speak for yourself," the red-headed guardswoman glowered at him. Then she sighed. "All the same. We can't have them knowing the truth."

"Good old Aveline!" Correm said. "I can always count on you, can't I." He didn't make it into a question.

Aveline snorted and smirked at him. "We'll see about that. Good night, Hawke, Bethany, Varric." She gave a nod to each of them in turn, and then separated from them as they continued on their way past the keep.

In the morning, Bethany was having a hard time rousing her brother from the near comatose state he was in. He had the covers pulled up to his chin, and she was grasping at his shoulder and shaking him. "Brother? Brother, wake up. We should go," she said. Maybe she wasn't shaking him hard enough. "Correm!" she shouted, flustered at the failure of her more gentle efforts.

"Hrng?" Correm let out a few groans and grunts, his eyes fluttering open slowly. Bethany saw him wince, and he shrank back from her a little. "Why are y' wankin-fgh," he slurred.

"Wake up," Bethany insisted. "We need to visit the healer and secure the maps. Varric said he'd meet us at the entrance to the Undercity."

"Ungh," Correm groaned again. She wondered how long it would take before he could come up with anything more intelligible than guttural syllables. "What har is't?" He asked. "This 'we' stuff? What... we?"

"You promised you would take me with you."

"I dun rem'ber that," he said, pressing the heel of his hand to the side of his head.

Bethany sighed, and put a hand on his forehead, brushing his hair back out of his eyes. She leaned down to look at him. "But, you said—"

Correm winced, and nodded a little. "I believe you," he said. His voice was pretty gruff. As he made to sit up finally, the blanket slid off, giving Bethany more of a view than she was expecting.

"Maker, put some pants on!" she exclaimed, turning away quickly, cheeks burning, and covered her eyes to avoid the sight she had just been subjected to. "Where are your pants? You're not wearing any pants!"

"Uh. I dunno," he said, looking around the room. "That would explain the draft, then."

"You're impossible, Brother," Bethany sighed. She'd have to find some pants for him, then. It didn't sound like he was going to possess the cognizance to solve this dilemma on his own right then. She stepped over to his small chest and went digging for a pair.

"Huh," he said behind her.

"What is it?" she asked, lifting up an article of clothing. She thought it might, at one point, have been pants, but it wasn't going to serve that purpose now. Into the corner she tossed it, to be re-purposed later.

"You won't believe what someone wrote here! 'Slippery and—' "

"Written where?" Bethany cut him off. She had finally found a pair of relatively clean pants.

"Right here on the inside of my hip, next to my—"

"By Andraste, I don't want to know!" She threw the pants at him, hitting him in the face. "Honestly! Please just get dressed, and have something to eat so we can get those maps. I made eggs and meat rolls."

"All right, all right," he agreed reluctantly.

After he had gotten properly dressed, Correm wasn't very interested in breakfast. Bethany tried to get him to eat at least a little, so that he wouldn't faint from hunger along the way. He whined and grumbled, but finally he ate an egg with some toast. She was thankful when they got out the door.

Before they entered the clinic in Darktown, Bethany stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Wait," she said. When he did, she put her palms on either side of his face. She sent healing energy into him, soothing the pain of his hangover headache. An immediate sigh of relief was the response she got.

The whole way from their uncle's house, he had been whining about his throbbing head. No doubt it had been in an effort to get her to do exactly what she had just done, without having to ask for it. Perhaps he was trying to make her feel guilty about interrupting his beauty sleep.

"There," she said, pulling her hands back. It would just be easier if he wouldn't go and do that sort of thing to himself, but sometimes she was willing to help him deal with it. Even though she knew she was enabling the behavior.

Correm kissed her on the cheek in thanks. From what Varric had said, and from the fact that Bethany had made note of the outrageous hour at which Correm had returned home, he had been at it most of the night. She could see in her brother's eyes that he was still a little tipsy. She hoped that he did not spoil things this morning.

"Incredible, Hawke," the dwarf said. "You really can't handle your ale as well as I would have credited you for."

"Nonsense," Correm protested, rubbing at his face. "Someone must have spiked my drinks with something stronger than ale. Probably that whiskey swill they try to pass off as real spirits in that place."

"I bet it was that spicy Nivea chick. She certainly took full advantage of your drunkenness."

The warrior raised his eyebrows. "Oh, was that the brunette? She must have been the one who wrote on my—"

"For the Maker's sake, we're here for a reason," Bethany pleaded. "I don't want to hear this. Could we please get the maps?" Sometimes she wondered why she even put up with him like this.

"Pushy, pushy. Always on about those maps." Correm looked at her for a few moments, sucking his lips. Then he leaned toward Varric and held up his hand as if to speak confidentially, but he spoke in a conspicuously loud whisper instead. "She drew little hearts, too."

Varric laughed and pounded him on the back, while Bethany flushed and did her best to avoid wasting her breath on fruitless protests. All the same, she knew that this was why she had had to come along, or her brother would never have gotten around to this. Not today, anyway. He would have spent half the day sleeping off the night before, and would have forgotten all about the maps until someone reminded him.

Even though it was important. Maker.

Before they crossed the threshold into the clinic itself, Correm blinked and turned to Varric. "How come I have to do this?"

"You know I'm more of a follower and an observer, Hawke. It's much easier to tell the story that way." Varric winked at Bethany.

Correm blinked again, apparently still bemused by the situation despite Varric's explanation. Bethany hoped again, despite herself, that he wouldn't make a fool of himself. She was having second thoughts about waking him before he'd properly recovered. It was too late now, though. No use fretting over it.

Neither Bethany nor Varric was inclined to bring up the subject of Anders's strange, angry manifestation the night before. The fact was, if that happened again, Correm would be better equipped to handle it than anyone else they knew. Over the years that the family had been moving constantly, one step ahead of the Templars, their father had insisted that he learn one or two of their tricks.

Correm hadn't wanted to at first. He had made a big deal of it, actually. He made it quite plain that he felt like it wasn't fair to Bethany, and that it was a betrayal of sorts of both her and their father. Malcolm, however, had seen the practicality of his eldest learning how to dampen magic abilities in the interest of preserving the family's freedoms.

At the age of fourteen, Correm's speech regarding the subject and his objection to learning such skills had been so impassioned, that sometimes when Bethany looked at him she could still picture the look on his face and it made her smile. What also made her smile was the memory of their father knocking Correm's feet out from under him by moving the very stones he'd been standing on, and lifting him up with magic to suspend him upside-down in mid air.

"Wouldn't it be nice to know some of those mana-sapping skills now, hmm?" their father had asked, chuckling as his eldest flailed around and yelled to be put down. "However noble you think you are, don't give excuses for your laziness, fool boy."

Finally, her brother had relented. Being hung upside-down with the blood rushing to his head had helped him make his decision more quickly, of course. He had agreed to try. Not that he'd really ever gotten around to refining the skills their father taught, even after all that, but it was better than nothing.

Inside the clinic, the healer was sorting through a collection of small pots and jars of unguents, solutions, and powders. Several refugees, two men and a young woman, stood by talking at him. As the trio approached, he handed the older looking man a jar.

"Make a tea of this," he said. "Use just enough to color the water pink. Give it to her every morning and night, and if she gets nauseated during the day. It should make the problem better."

"Thank you, mesere," the man now holding the jar said, nodding his head. The refugees left, then, apparently having all come together.

Stopping to watch them go, Correm raised an eyebrow, then turned to the strawberry-blonde mage. "Were they looking for a remedy for mum's moon time terror?"

Anders blinked at him. Then he cleared his throat while Bethany covered her face with her hand, embarrassed to be related to this man. Varric just chuckled.

"I'm sorry about my brother, Healer," Bethany said, not wanting to offend. "He's..." she struggled for the right thing to say.

"He's drunk," Varric supplied helpfully.

"I object!" Correm insisted.

Anders gave him a look. "I see," he said slowly. "If you must know, that man's wife is pregnant, and is having difficulties."

"Oh."

Serves you right, Bethany thought to herself, seeing Correm's embarrassment.

"I... have your maps," Anders continued, suddenly looking a bit anxious. "Thank you for your assistance last night," he continued. "I had hoped that... well, never mind. It's done."

"We understand," said Bethany, giving him a small, supportive smile. "I'm sorry we could not get there in time to save your friend."

"It's not your fault. I'm the one who put you in danger." Before she could say anything more, he turned quickly and went looking through a grungy old chest behind his table.

As he did so, Bethany looked to her brother expectantly. Now was a good time for him to mention what had happened to Anders the night before. He gave her an uncertain grin and a shrug. Obviously, he didn't understand. She sighed in exasperation and pointed at Anders' back. The only response she got was one of his raised eyebrows.

"The, uh, glowing thing, Hawke," Varric reminded him quietly. They had talked about it and it had been decided that Correm should be the one to mention it to Anders. The others, including Aveline, had decided it for him, rather.

"Oh!" he finally understood. " Anders, about what happened. Is it just me, or did you—"

"Yes, I'm sorry," Anders cut him off, still standing with his back turned. Bethany saw his back tighten up further. "You deserve to know."

"I had damn well better." Correm said bluntly, much to Bethany's shock. "That was a neat trick! Can you teach it to my sister? That could come in handy. But could she glow pink instead?"

"Brother!" she blanched, horrified that he'd say something like that.

"No, I..." Anders hesitated. "It's not what you think. It's not a 'trick'. A while back, I met a spirit who was trapped outside the Fade."

"What, like a demon?" Correm asked. "One of those awful shade things?"

Anders shivered a little bit, and there was a tension around his eyes. Bethany caught the look, and wondered if there might be some bit of truth in that. Yet, how could it be so? This man was a healer. And, if she recalled her father's teachings correctly, he might even be a spirit healer. Is this what he was talking about?

"Not the same," Bethany murmured. "Don't you remember Father's lectures?"

"Don't you remember I never listened?" he countered. When Malcolm had been speaking of magical things, Correm really hadn't ever listened all that well. She should have known better.

Bethany saw that Anders seemed to be more uncomfortable with each moment, and with each word Correm spewed out of his mouth. He was always irreverent, especially with strangers, but he normally could show a little bit more tact than this.

"He was a spirit of Justice," Anders said. He looked off to the side, and then down, a ghost of sadness and regret crossing his face. "One of the spirits which embody the virtues of man."

"Or woman?" Correm asked.

"Er, yes. Or—or woman," the healer frowned, his brow furrowing. "Either way, he was trapped in a rotting corpse. He wasn't a shade. I couldn't just leave him like that. And I thought that, if I became a willing host, so that he would not fall to pieces..." he trailed off.

Bethany put a hand over her mouth. "So you offered yourself? For your friend?" She had never heard of such a thing. In all those lectures of her father's, he had never made mention of anything like that. Mages would occasionally, in desperation, make pacts with demons, and they would become a horrific abomination, but Anders seemed nothing like that.

"You have a Fade creature inside you?" Correm asked. "Living in your head."

"It's not... quite like that. But... the short version is, yes. He had seen the injustices that mages suffer every day, in every part of their lives, and we were going to work to change that, together. But it went wrong. I had too much anger inside, and he... absorbed it. It twisted him."

The healer began to pace nervously, picking at the edges of his feathered coat. He would not meet anyone's eyes. "He manifests as Vengeance now. Uncontrollable rage at the Templars for what they do, and what they stand for. All those things that, before, I was helpless to do anything about."

"Well, remind me to never get on your bad side, then," Correm said with a shrug. "I don't want an abomination angry with me."

"I'm—" Anders started, but he stopped himself and frowned. The faint lines at the corners of his eyes deepened, leaving him looking a lot older than he probably was.

Correm clapped him on the shoulder with exaggerated force, making the healer stagger a little. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. I'm not exactly going to walk up to the Knight-Commander and tell her I found an abomination while I was slaughtering a cadre of her Templars."

"He really never would," Bethany said quickly, wanting to reaffirm that point. She didn't know Anders well enough to know how he'd take her brother's attitude.

Anders made a weak attempt at smiling. "I believe you." He was still holding those valuable maps, and hastily handed them over to the warrior. "Here," he said. "We made a deal. You held up your end. I shall do nothing less."

"Excellent!" Correm exclaimed, taking them from him. "Now we can get ourselves into more trouble that much more easily." He glanced at the maps, and then stuffed them into his jerkin carelessly. Bethany hoped that he wasn't damaging the paper, since they'd gone through so much trouble to get them.

"Are you... absolutely certain that you want to go down there?" Anders queried with a grimace. "It's not a pleasant place, the Deep Roads. If I had my preference, I'd never have to think about the blighted Deep Roads ever again."

Putting his fists on his hips, Correm tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. "You sound like my mother. I'm not exactly taking auditions for the part. One mother is quite enough for me."

"Thank you, serah, for the maps," Bethany said deliberately, tugging on her brother's arm. "We'll trouble you no further." She thought it about time to get him out of there.

"Oh, please," Anders said, flushing. "Just 'Anders'. I don't want to be that formal. You're going to make me feel old."

Bethany smiled at him. There was something about him in that moment that struck her as warm, and familiar. This was a man who had been through a lot in his life. Not just with his clinic here, or with his poor friend in the Gallows. He'd obviously seen many failures, but he had some of the same determination that their father had possessed. "You know, you remind me a little of our father," she admitted to him.

"Without the beard," Correm added. "Although it looks like you haven't shaved in a while."

Anders raised an eyebrow. "Well, you're one to talk. You have your own five o'clock shadow."

"Touché, my good fellow. He does have a sense of humor!"

"Somewhat difficult to have one in this place, I'd imagine," Varric commented.

Bethany couldn't help but agree with him. The clinic was not as bad as the rest of Darktown, but it was grungy enough. There was filth and rubble in the corners, and stains on the floor and on the wooden cots that she did not want to think about too deeply. It looked as if Anders tried to keep it clean, but didn't manage to finish with his efforts. Only half of the shelves on the back wall seemed to be organized, for starters.

Correm cleared his throat. "Well, we've got our maps. We're off, then," he said. "We'll leave you to your, ah, work."

The trio turned to leave. "Good day to you, healer," Bethany said, unable to break formality completely and call him by his name. "I'm sorry again for your loss."

Anders smiled sadly and nodded, waving at them in parting. Then his back was to them again. Bethany thought she caught the sound of a wistful sigh, but her brother was charging out the door in his normal brusque manner, and she did not want to get left behind.

That man has so much sadness inside him, she thought to herself. She wondered if there was anything that she could do for him, but at the same time she was just too shy to say anything about it. And he was a lot older than she was. Maybe she could convince her brother to go back later and apologize for acting like a lummox.

"Bethany!" Correm startled her as they climbed back up into Lowtown by calling her name suddenly.

She jumped and blinked at him. "Wh-what?" She had been thinking about Anders, and hadn't even noticed that Varric had separated from them and gone off on his own way. She wondered if he had the maps; she didn't trust her brother with them.

Correm snapped his fingers. "We need some organ meats for Bostrix! Would you cook them? Pretty please?"

"Cook? For the dog?" She made a face.

"He wants something extra special this morning, I just know it!" He sounded a whole lot more enthusiastic about cooking for his dog than he should have.

Bethany sighed. Why did she have the feeling that it was going to be a long day?