"Varric. Varric!" The Seeker's insistent voice was the first thing to cut through my sleep, before she tore the covers off my bed.
"Maker take you!" Was the second thing I heard.
Slowly, I sat up and pulled the blankets back up to waist height. "Good morning to you too, Cassandra."
It was always a treat to see the usually stern Seeker get her feathers ruffled, but this time the price was a little steep. Still, I'm not so attached to my own dignity that I couldn't find the whole thing funny.
"I apologize, Varric. I did not think before I acted." The Seeker told my bedroom door. "There was another message from the Inquisitor waiting for me this morning."
That sounded like the kind of thing you should wear pants for. Mine were draped on the chair where I'd left them.
"No peeking, Seeker." I stood up, waited for the noise of disgust from the Seeker, and grabbed my clothes.
"I'm decent, Seeker." I said modestly, flicking the blankets back over my bed.
"For once." Cassandra said under her breath.
"Was that a joke?" Gods, it was barely dawn, and the Seeker was cracking wise. Too damn early for that, by far.
"Much as I'd like to go dashing off into the unknown towards certain danger, food might be a good idea. Eaten yet, Seeker?"
Her stomach rumbled in response, which I figured meant she'd appreciate a bit of breakfast.
"I would rather not let this lead go cold, Varric."
"Man cannot exist on justice alone, Seeker."
We compromised, which meant neither of us were particularly thrilled with the outcome. Mostly me, since the Seeker's idea of a compromise was that we'd exist on justice, and I'd be grateful to not eat dirt.
Outside the Hanged Man, a sleek looking black Daimler lurked, surprisingly unmolested by the inhabitants of Lowtown which was a small miracle. A group of ragged looking kids clustered around it, admiring the car's sleek lines and standing on the runners.
As we neared the car, the kids scattered. One look at the Seeker's face told me why no one had bothered trying anything with her car. Someone who wanted to risk the wrath of Cassandra Pentaghast was someone very stupid or very confident. Maybe both.
I was pretty sure I knew which category I was in.
Cassandra slid behind the car's wheel, and I couldn't help but think they'd been made for eachother. Fierce, predatory lines, smooth and flowing, the kind you wanted to run your hands over.
Thoughts like that were liable to get me in more trouble than they were worth.
"Inquisitor letting you drive? Pixie's got a death wish." I remarked.
The only response I got was a grunt, as the Seeker peeled away from the curb.
"How's the Pixie, anyways? Been a while since I had a letter."
"She is well. As is Sera." The Seeker's lips quirked up a fraction, and she darted a quick look my way "They filled my luggage with unmentionable things three times. I had to hide my suitcase with Cole."
That made me laugh. The kind of things the Seeker deemed 'unmentionable' ranged from underclothes to rude looking vegetables. And ostensibly romance novels, if you asked her.
"Not going to share, Seeker? Probably for the best, the truth couldn't beat what I could imagine."
"They were… violently red. And transparent." Cassandra said, that same smile playing around her mouth. "Where they found such things, I do not know."
"That.. leaves a hell of a lot to the imagination."
"The same can't be said for them. I expect I have Bull to blame for that particular 'gift'. He asked after you. Sends his regards, as does Dorian." Cassandra carefully steered the long bonnet of the car through the Lowtown streets.
The Daimler purred through Lowtown, the opposite of subtle.
"You know if you wanted to blend in, you picked the wrong time and the wrong car," I told her, watching Lowtown blur through the window. "Everyone knows Lowtown doesn't come alive til evening."
"I know." The Seeker turned the car around another corner, towards the docks.
"I really hope you have a plan beyond 'look obvious and hope the bad guys try and shoot us', Seeker." We were drawing attention from every beggar, brigand, and sailor we passed. Not that I could blame them, the Daimler was damn sexy.
"Of course. The car was the Inquisitor's idea." Cassandra slid a hand along the dashboard, stroking the black leather. "A subtle but strong reminder that the Inquisition is not afraid."
"I get the feeling you'd like to be alone with the car, Seeker." I said. Hell, I wanted to be alone with the car. "She got a name?"
"The car? Varric, you are the only one who gives names to objects." The Seeker gave me some serious side-eye.
I patted Bianca's holster protectively. "There there, Bianca baby. The Seeker's just jealous."
"I am not jealous, Varric. The way you fondle that gun is… obscene at best."
"Definitely jealous." I said, tempting fate.
The Seeker took the next corner a bit sharply, and I slammed against the passenger side door.
"I beg your pardon, Varric. The streets here are a bit narrow." The Seeker's lips were pressed together tightly, the way they were when she was trying not to look pleased.
"Alright. I'll can the smart ass remarks. Fill me in on this lead of yours." I said.
The Seeker made a noncommittal noise, and pulled a slip of paper from her breast pocket.
"This is the note the Inquisitor sent. Does it sound like anyone you might know?"
"Seeker, I don't want to shock you but it's entirely possible I don't know every apostate mage, thief, and pirate in this town." I said, only a little serious.
The note, in Pixie's looping handwriting, stated that the Inquisition had received a request from a woman in Kirkwall whose daughter had disappeared from the College of Magi. A mage, studying the effects of red lyrium, and containment of it.
"I take it we're going to talk to the mage's mother, then?" I studied the note. Sera had decorated one margin with bees shooting out of an arse. "You know she could just be dead. This isn't much of a lead, Seeker."
Definitely not enough of a lead to merit yanking me out of bed at an ungodly hour.
"It is possible. Either way, it is the best we can do." The Seeker gently eased the Daimler into a parking spot in front of a dilapidated apartment building. "We have no other leads, and the timing is too close."
The neighbourhood was typical of Lowtown, particularly the area near the docks. Run down, but there was a little pride on display. The steps of the apartment block were clean, the doors and shutters had all been painted within the last few years, and someone was trying to raise flowers in small chipped pots arranged along the stoop's edge. As always in Lowtown, we were being watched. The watchers probably didn't have any malicious intent, just the ever present curiosity of people who trade on what they did or didn't see.
Cassandra shut the car down, and went through the motions of checking her gear. Gun, ankle gun, knife, extra rounds, extra knife, and well. That was new.
"Brass knuckles, Seeker? Little low brow of you."
Cassandra ignored me, tucked the brass knuckles into her jacket pocket, and let herself out onto the street.
My fingers slipped down to check Bianca, lingered on her engraved grip. I wasn't too worried, but it never hurt to be prepared.
I had a sinking feeling it was going to be a long morning.
