Chapter 4: Making Friends and Influencing People

I awaken that morning in a good mood. I have some information that could hurt Hawke, and better yet, a plan that has a good chance of working. I hadn't handled things with my usual finesse after the whole "glowy abomination" scare, but I'd gotten results, nevertheless. I'll have one of my contacts deliver the evidence with a letter to Athenril letting her know how much her efforts are appreciated.

I need to find a way to worm my way into Hawke's inner circle and make friends with them. I'm usually good at this part. Part of being able to hide who you are means that you can be anyone. Convincing someone is just a matter of figuring out what they want. I know the Deep Roads expedition will be happening soon. Some of Hawke's friends will be going with her, so my time with them will be limited, but which of Hawke's companions should I start with?

I realize the most obvious choice is Varric. He seems to be a central force among the others. If I can convince him to trust me, then I'll have a better shot at getting at them all. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. Befriending Varric is not going to be an easy task, however. Between Cat and I watching him, we have learned that while he is cordial to a lot of people, there aren't many that really gain his confidence. He is already part of the expedition, as well, so if he's my target, I had best be quick about it.

I've heard stories about Varric Tethras from my Carta contacts. He worked with them in the past, but had separated himself from it, which was pretty impressive by itself. I don't want the Carta to catch onto my interest in him, so I can't afford to ask too many questions. I bet his fancy crossbow is connected to it, somehow. Sadly, given his own history with them, I suspect pulling the Carta card isn't going to help me with this one.

No, Varric is going to be tricky. Not easily intimidated, but not generally unkind either. Good sense of humor, too. His involvement with the Dwarven Merchant's Guild means he's connected with higher social circles. His information network seems useful; he always seems to be aware of things going on around town. I can't tell how much he really knows, but he's experienced at gathering information. Outright lies will probably tip him off and get me caught before I can even get started. Maybe a direct angle, but with a twist. Might knock him off guard a little.

I get dressed for the day, putting on the hated uniform, and head to the Hanged Man to start my midday shift. Varric is sitting at one of the tables in the bar, writing furiously into a book. He's the only one here - I guess it's still fairly early. I study him, taking in his tailored coat and gold earring. Not too flashy, but I can tell it had cost him a pretty penny. His expression is pensive as he scribbles with his quill. I approach him. "Can I get ya anything?" I ask in my perfectly practiced Kirkwall accent.

He looks up at me. "Oh, it's you," he says, sounding rather dismissive. "Just an ale, then. Got it? Just ale." He says this last part slowly and drawn out, stressing his syllables.

I laugh, a low and hearty sound. This catches his attention, causing him to look up again, and the grip on his quill loosens.

"You got it, boss" I reply. He crooks an eyebrow as I walk back to the bar. Waving off Corff, I grab a glass and go straight to where I know we keep the imports. Yes, this ought to do it. I pour a glass from the bottle and walk back to where he sits. He hasn't returned to his writing, instead watching me the entire time. I calmly place the drink in front of him.

"What's this supposed to be? This isn't the usual stuff." He picks up the glass and studies the color.

"A little something special. I think you'll like it," I explain.

"And here I didn't get you anything," he jokes. Varric eyes the glass like it will attack him at any moment. He throws a glance at Corff, who shrugs. I can't blame him. I'd been intentionally messing up his drinks for weeks now. Seemingly convinced that at least I'm not trying to poison him, he takes a sip. His expression melts, and I know I've chosen correctly.

"Maker's Breath, Valenta Red? I haven't tasted this in a long time...but I don't know how the hell you managed to get hold of an ale that's almost exclusively sold in Orzammar."

"Important word, almost. Enjoy it," I say enigmatically, and turn to walk away. I don't get far, as Varric grabs my wrist. His large fingers are stronger than I expected. He leans in, tugging down on my wrist, leaving me no option but to put my head closer to his.

"What exactly are you up to, Cookie?" he says in a low volume. I can't help it, I burst out laughing again. I guess I really have been a jerk to him. I can't blame him for being thrown by my sudden change in attitude. But "Cookie"? Seriously?

Pain hits my shoulder and I'm suddenly being dragged away from Varric, my wrist slipping out of his grasp. His startled expression shows he had been just as distracted as I had by our exchange and hadn't noticed anyone approaching. My arm is pulled at a cruel angle. I stumble, nearly falling, but thankfully regain my composure, as the pressure on my arm doesn't let up. I manage to turn and see who has accosted me. Anders. Not again! My thoughts immediately go to Cat. I need to resolve this quickly. I can't have her involved in any of this.

"Ow, you're hurting me, stop it," I say. That's it, keep your cool, Norah, I think to myself, trying to keep from reacting. Mage powers have a tendency to go off unintentionally under duress. I can't make this more of a scene than this already is. I focus on the training from my previous life and slow my breathing.

Anders pauses for a moment at my words and a frown furrows his brow, but he doesn't let go of my arm. I look back toward Varric, but he's already busy fending off a protective Corff, his soothing voice telling him to back off, that he will handle this. Corff looks at me, his eyes questioning. I shake my head at him, wordlessly telling him not to intervene. Varric walks over to the two of us. Anders starts leading me again, toward the back hallway.

"Have you lost your shit, Blondie?" Varric says, his tone sounding a bit angry. "Let go of the nice waitress."

"This woman is a viper. She's a spy for the templars." His tone is harsh, but it's not the deep voice I had heard when his spirit had spoken.

Templars? Even I know not to tempt fate like that. Wait, he thinks I'm just a spy? Then he hadn't sensed Cat last night, after all. I try not to let my relief show through. But if it wasn't Cat, how had he found out about me, then? I need more information, but I'm not going to get it with him this angry.

"That's what you believe?" I scoff. "Nothing could be further from the truth. I'd never work for them."

"But you don't deny you're a spy?" he asks tensely, and his grip tightens. I wince.

"You don't need to do that," I say, inclining my head toward his hand. "I'll tell you...but not here. Can we speak in private?"

Varric finally speaks up, "Don't move without me, I'm just going to grab my drink. I want to hear this, but Valenta Red is just too good to let it go to waste."

We end up in Varric's private suite. Anders doesn't let go of me until we reach the doorway. He pushes me in before him, blocking any chance of retreat. Little does he know, I have no intentions on leaving. While the timing is unexpected, this is an opportunity. Two in one go. My shoulder definitely doesn't see it that way, though. I massage it absentmindedly. Anders's mouth briefly turns down at the corners. Guilt? No, probably not.

"So, do you want to start, or should I? You obviously have questions for me," I say.

"That's putting it mildly," Varric says with wry amusement. "But I can wait my turn. You first," he says, nodding to Anders.

"Alright. Why were you spying on my meeting?" Anders questions.

"I was looking for Athenril myself. I'm...a friend," I say.

"She didn't react like she was expecting friends," Anders says, unimpressed.

Varric interjects, "I don't think that's the kind of friend she meant."

Huh, maybe Varric's own information network is better than I thought. "He's right. I'm referring to the Friends of Red Jenny. I'm one of them." Partially true, anyway. Keep it close to the facts. "Have you heard of us?"

Anders became thoughtful for a moment. "Only vague rumors when I was in Ferelden," he answers. "I heard they were a web of loosely connected spies and assassins."

"Close. It's mostly just everyday folk. Like servants, and barmaids." I shrug and smirk. "We each do something, small things, really: lock a door, 'forget' to lock a door, listen at a door; eventually, everyone gets something out of it."

Realization dawns on his face. "Wait, you're the reason she was in such a hurry to leave." I nodded. "What was your business with her?"

"Private. Suffice it to say it had nothing to do with templars."

Anders frowns. "How can I possibly believe you?"

"Think about it, really; when have you known the templars to have any subtlety?" I ask. "They're more the type to believe everything can be solved at the end of a sword. Whereas our Friends are everywhere, and we see a lot. I already know who you are, Anders. Your clinic is common knowledge, as well as how you help the Ferelden refugees and the poor. You are suspected of involvement with the mage underground. If we had wanted to turn you over, we could have done it a long time ago. There was no need; you're doing more for our cause to help the average folk than most."

He's silent again for a moment. "If that's true and it wasn't you, then why did Athenril cut off trading lyrium with us?"

"That one's easy. Pressure from the Carta," I say plainly. Another half-truth. My mentor would be so proud.

Varric comments, "That tracks, Blondie. Everyone knows that the Carta smuggle lyrium out of Orzammar and broker all the deals topside. They wouldn't take kindly to someone cutting into their business. That might have been okay when Hawke was working for Athenril, but now with her year ending..."

I make a disgusted noise at the mention of Hawke's name. Anders doesn't seem to notice, but Varric tilts his head back at an angle. "You got something against Hawke?"

"She creates trouble wherever she goes, and it's always the little people who suffer when that happens," I say. "That's the exact opposite of what our Friends are trying to accomplish. I don't trust her to see the consequences of her choices."

Varric shrugs, his expression noncommittal.

Anders is still. He sighs. "I may have misjudged you. It's just...he felt your presence so strongly. I was certain you must be working with the templars, that you were a threat to mages," he trails off, his voice becoming quieter with every word.

I inhale, and take a big risk. "He being your spirit, you mean?"

His head turns sharply to stare at me. "You saw him, then." I nod. "It's not what you think. He's not a demon, he is a benevolent spirit of Justice. We partnered together to help the mages with their plight."

"Why would he react to me then? I've already told you I have no interest in helping the templars." Not directly anyway, but he doesn't need to know that. I'm not above using them if it comes to it, but a stronger templar army would be a greater threat to me, as well, being what I am.

Anders begins, "I'm not sure, but when I first met him, he helped those who fought against oppression. Since bonding with me, our efforts have been focused solely on aiding the mages and fighting templar abuses. It hasn't happened in a while, but maybe he was sensing a need in you for justice. If so, it's possible that's what he noticed that night, and what led us here today. You must have been wronged somehow."

Oh Maker, it's me. I'd been the one that had drawn Justice's attention. It was never Cat. I'd put her at risk. I feel guilt welling up inside me, and I know I'm having trouble maintaining my calm exterior. Breathe, inhale. Now is not the time to think about it. Years of harsh lessons had schooled my body well. Exhale. I purse my lips and focus. Remember your training.

I jerk back to awareness when a voice speaks close to my ear. "What is it? Are you alright?" I realize Anders has moved closer and he's looking at me with concern. "Is it about your need for justice?

"It's nothing," I say evasively, backing away slightly, although I can't move much in the chair. I hate how small my voice sounds. I remember to use the accent, but barely.

"Perhaps I can help?"

"A minute ago you wanted my head on a platter, and now you want to help?" I remark incredulously.

"Hold on, Cookie. He's not the only one whose personality changed in a heartbeat," says Varric calmly, but there's an edge of impatience in his voice. "Seems to be a case of it running around," he mutters.

"You're right," I admit.

"I usually am, but it still doesn't explain things," he points out.

"So what's with this Cookie nonsense?" I say, smiling a little again.

He grins back. "You know, you're always prickly every time I see you, and suddenly now you're all sweet, like a cookie. I don't know, it just seemed to fit the moment and it stuck."

Anders interrupts, "You really won't tell me? Now that I know you're not involved with the templars, I feel horrible for having hurt you. I overreacted. I should make it up to you somehow."

My smile deflates. "I'm fine now, that's really not necessary. You don't need to get involved. Besides, I...I have someone I need to protect," I reply in all sincerity. "I just can't."

I can't imagine what I would do if something happened to Cat. This did not go the way I had planned. This is the second time Anders has thrown things off for me. Not everything is lost, however. He knows who I am now and he's being nicer to me. I'll still count that as a win.

Varric says, "All better now, Anders? Good. Maybe you should go now and let us finish our conversation."

"Can I visit you again?" Anders asks me, ignoring Varric. "Justice wants to make it right, as well. Maybe there's another way I can help you."

"Fine, if that's what you want, but be a bit more discreet next time. I'm going to have a lot to explain to Corff as it is."

He nods, mouth tense, turns on a heel and strides back out into the bar.