In Search of Tranquility
Chapter Four: Civil War
"Only fools fight over who owns a cottage while it burns down around them!"
Ser Bryant, Knight-Commander of Templars in Lothering
Emma Swan was the one pacing, but the restlessness was in the man sitting across the desk from Regina. The energy coming from him was almost volcanic in its intensity, but he held himself in with a steely control she'd seen in nobody else but Regina. Not that Regina herself was too controlled right now. She only stayed sitting because her legs were still unsteady from what their 'visitor' had called a 'Jellylegs Jinx'. Mary-Margaret and David had assisted her to her seat with genuine concern and ill—concealed amusement, which hadn't helped Reginas' mood any.
"So let's start again." Emma said. "What's your name, where do you come from and what are you doing in Storybrooke?"
The man sighed, and began to speak in his precise, British way. "My name is Sirius Black, son of Orion and Walburga Black, brother to Regulus Black. My home was No 12 Grimmauld Place, London, England.
"I am a pureblood wizard and member of the Order of the Phoenix. In 1995, I was involved in a fight in the Ministry of Magic in London, where I was struck by a Stun Hex and fell through the Veil. I spent the next twenty years in a place called 'the Fade', until a week ago. At that time I encountered a man called Killian Jones, who was travelling through the Fade from Storybrooke to parts unknown. I'd never heard of Storybrooke, but I did recognise Maine, of course. I was – am – anxious to get home, for a lot of reasons, so I went through the portal Mr Jones had come through.
"As soon as I got through on this side, I apparated to London. Fortunately, I chose to appear in a side-alley opposite my house, rather than inside it. That was when I realised something was wrong. The house was there, in plain view. I saw a muggle postman put letters through the door. That shouldn't happen – even with the Fidelius Charm broken, muggles shouldn't be able to see that house. So I went to find the Ministry of Magic, only there was some kind of sandwich bar there. The Leaky Cauldron was gone as well, no entrance into Diagon Alley.
"So I went to Scotland, to Hogsmeade, and found an empty moor near a ruined castle where my old school should be.
"So, I came back here, where I knew there were wizards, to find out what had happened to my people.
"Now, will somebody tell me what's going on?"
Emma sighed. "There's a problem with all that, Mr Black. Two problems, in fact.
"One is that there are no wizards native to this Realm. Only people born in the Enchanted Realms can practise magic, and then only within the confines of this town."
"Had there been a family as extensive and magically-powerful as you claim yours to be, in any of those Realms," Regina put in, "I would have heard of them. To be honest, I'd probably have done my best to kill them all. Though if they were all as skilled as you," her voice took on a rueful tone, "I'd probably be dead! Or turned into something really unpleasant."
"Thank you, I think." Black replied, before turning to Emma. "You spoke of a second problem?"
"The second problem." Emma took a breath. "You know what the internet is, don't you?" She asked.
"I haven't the slightest idea." Black told her. "Some muggle thing, I take it. I told you, I'm a pureblood. My family didn't approve of anything muggle. They thought my interest in motorcycles was a sign of degeneracy."
"Whatever." Emma rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm not about to explain it to you, since I don't speak nerd and I'm pretty sure you don't. All I'll say is that you can use the internet to find out a lot of things.
"For instance, the address you gave – 12 Grimmauld Place – hasn't existed since 1852, when the street was renamed Coverley Place. Number 12 is the residence of a London stockbroker named Colin Foster, his wife Victoria and their three children, Jasmine, Roland and Rebecca. It has never belonged to a family named Black.
"But that's not the problem. Do you know, Mr Black, what happens when I type the name 'Sirius Black' into a search engine?"
"If my guess as to what a 'search engine' does is correct," Black told her, "I imagine you get nothing at all."
"Not quite." Emma replied. "What I get is over forty-six million hits – answers. The most popular and precise of which concern a wizard named Sirius Black, a character in an immensely successful series of children's books written by a British author in the 1990s, and the movies based on those books."
"That," Black conceded, "is a problem. Or perhaps a coincidence?"
"It's neither." Emma replied flatly. "The problem, Mr Black, is that everything you have told us about yourself up to your disappearance through this Veil, matches exactly the history of the fictional wizard as told by the author.
"Now you might be some crazy person who thinks he's a character from a book – it happens. What blows a hole in that is that you are actually a wizard, and the magic you use is just like the magic in the books. I know because my son has read those books more times than I care to think about!
"Wherever you come from, Mr Black, it's not here! And I'm pretty sure that wherever Killian was going wasn't where you came from, either!"
"We do know Killian plans to come back." Mary-Margaret pointed out. "That pattern he drew on the ground is still there, and whatever potion he poured into it is still there too! It can't be scooped out, and neither you nor Regina could magic it out."
Emma shook her head. "I guess there's only one person in Storybrooke who can make sense of this." She admitted. "Mary-Margaret, will you go fetch Henry?"
The cave was vast, so vast that he couldn't feel the heat from the river of lava that flowed through the middle of it. Not that he would have noticed, he barely noticed the stench of the things surrounding him. Like them, his attention was riveted upwards.
On a natural stone bridge, high above, perched a magnificent beast – a true dragon. It reared up, spread its great wings and breathed a gout of flame. Then it roared, and there were words in the roar. He didn't understand them, but they were there, words of hate, of anger, goading them to sally forth, to kill, to burn, to devour!
Then he was awake, staring wide-eyed into a star-filled sky. Killian sat up and looked around. The east was just beginning to lighten. Nearby, Cormac had started up at the same moment. Killian met the lads' eyes and saw a haunted look there that was probably mirrored in his own.
"Bad dreams?" The voice was Alistairs'. He had taken the last watch and was sitting across the fire from them.
"It seemed so real..." Cormac said quietly.
"Must've been something I ate..." Killian tried to shrug it off.
Alistair smiled grimly at him. "Something you drank, actually." He said. "The Joining, remember?"
He turned to Cormac. "It seemed real because it was, sort of. The Joining enables us to sense the Darkspawn, but there are side-effects. Those dreams are one of them. The Archdemon..it talks to the horde, and we feel it just as they do. That's why we know this is really a Blight. The same thing happened to me at first, and when I heard you both thrashing around, I guessed what was happening.
"It takes a little while, but eventually you'll be able to block the dreams out."
"That dragon is the Archdemon, then?" Cormac asked.
"I don't know if it's actually a dragon," Alistair admitted, "but it sure looks like one."
"Now you mention it, Duncan did say something about dreams..." Killian stopped talking as Alistairs' face fell. The boy was still suffering the loss of his mentor. Not surprising, since Duncan might well have been the nearest to a father Alistair had ever had. Cormac got up and went over, hunkering down beside Alistair and talking quietly to him. Killian made his way to a nearby brook to splash cold water on his face and hands. They'd boil up a cauldron in a bit to get a warm wash, but for now he needed to clear his head.
The visit to Lothering had proved both profitable and frustrating. The village itself was overrun with refugees, the only organised body there being the Chantry and a small force of Templars attached to it. While most of the refugees were just stopping over, intending to move north to the capital, Denerim, the villagers themselves were as yet undecided. Since the Bann of Lothering and his men had been conscripted by Loghain, the Revered Mother of the Chantry was the de facto leader of the village, and had yet to persuade them to leave. Until they did so, neither she nor the Templars would abandon them.
It was Ser Bryant, Knight-Commander of the Templars, who had informed them that Loghain had declared all Grey Wardens traitors to Ferelden, and blamed them for Cailans' death. They had also learned that Loghain, as the late Kings' father-in-law, had declared himself Regent. Much of the Bannorn had refused to accept this – Loghain had been born a commoner, after all, and more importantly, he had not summoned a Landsmeet to debate the matter. But the man who should have led the opposition, who could have united the nobility, was absent. Arl Eamon of Redcliffe, it seemed, was deathly ill – so much so that many of his knights were on a quest to find a relic of Andraste, said to be able to cure any disease. Ser Bryant had also paid them a small bounty for driving off the bandits, and pointed them in the direction of the Chanter' Board -a notice board outside the Chantry where people posted requests – usually dangerous ones – for which a reward was offered.
A knight of Redcliffe, Ser Donal, who was staying at the Chantry, confirmed the tale of Eamons' sickness. He told them, however, that Arlessa Isolde was still at Redcliffe Castle, and could probably tell them more.
Attempts to buy supplies were not overly successful. Arms and armour were to be had in plenty, but there was precious little in the way of other gear and no food to spare. A visit to the local inn led to a hostile encounter with a group of Loghains' men, who recognised Cormac and Killian, and attempted to arrest them. A woman called Leliana – apparently a lay sister of the Chantry – had attempted to intervene, only to be caught up in what proved a rather nasty brawl. To Killians' surprise, Sister Leliana had immediately produced a long dagger which she employed in a most efficient, if unsportsmanlike, fashion. She then proceeded to sweet-talk Cormac into letting her join the party. She was a short, slender redhead with the muscled arms of an archer. She was also pretty, wide-eyed and soft-spoken. Killian didn't trust her as far as he could have thrown Rufus!
At the urging of Killian and Morrigan, the party had then scoured the local area of bandits, wolves, bears and spiders the size of bears. That had netted them some good loot – including a suit of fine steel chainmail for Cormac – and decent rewards. Among the latter was a steel longsword, superbly-balanced, called Oathkeeper, which Killian had appropriated. Between the loot and the rewards, they'd been able to outfit Leliana with armour and weapons, including a longbow.
Cormac and Killian had agreed that, for now, the best plan was to head for Redcliffe and see what the situation there was like, and so they had left Lothering that same day.
As Killian made his way back to the fire, he saw that Leliana was emerging from her tent – they had only two, which had been given to the ladies – and that Alistair was putting the last of their bacon into a pan. Their supplies had lasted better than they'd hoped, largely due to Rufus' habit of disappearing shortly before they set up camp for the night, only to come back carrying a choice article of game – he wanted his share of course, but a medium-sized deer or wild goat was more than enough to provide a decent evening meal for the party.
As Killian approached, Cormac beckoned him over.
"We seem to have acquired company." The young nobleman said.
Killian looked across the campsite. Between the main area and Morrigans' tent -she always camped a distance off, either unused to company or moping, Killian neither knew nor cared which – was another small fire, beside which two small figures were also preparing breakfast. Nearby was a cart and a hobbled mule. As the two men approached, the figures by the fire rose and came forward. One of them looked up with an ingratiating smile.
"Good to see you again, my timely rescuers!" He said. "Bodahn Feddic at your service once again. I saw your camp and thought, 'what safer place to pass the night than the camp of a Grey Warden?' I'm prepared to offer you a fine discount for the inconvenience of our presence. What do you say?"
They had met the Dwarf merchant and his taciturn son just outside Lothering several days ago. The trader had been under attack from a group of Darkspawn, which the party had quickly despatched.
"I thought you said travelling with us might be too exciting for you?" Cormac asked.
"Ah!" Bodahn said ruefully. "That was before I realised just how dangerous the roads have become!"
"You can stay." Cormac said, after a brief, wordless consultation with Killian. "But don't get underfoot!"
"And don't," Killian said, "be indiscreet with any other customers! We need to keep our heads down at the moment."
Bodahn intimated that he understood perfectly, just as Morrigan made her appearance.
"Breakfast," she said, "then a wash, and we should move on."
Cormac nodded. "We should reach Redclifffe by midmorning." He said. "The village is more or less on the southern tip of Lake Calenhad, if this map is right. The Castle itself is a little to the west, with its back to the mountains.
"Do you think you could get there without insulting Alistair, Morrigan?"
"I do not insult him." She replied. "I merely present an honest assessment of his abilities and personal qualities. I will refrain if you wish. But only for as long as you can refrain from flirting with Leliana!"
They had travelled a circuitous route up to now, skirting the edges of the Bannorn. They had agreed that a party containing three Grey Wardens and an apostate mage should avoid more populated areas for the moment. Today, however, Alistair took the lead, guiding them directly, a little west of north, toward Redcliffe.
"I know this country." He told them. "I grew up around here. Redcliffe is on the lake and they do more fishing than farming. What farms they do have are over to the east of the village where the land's flatter. We'll come to a river soon. There's a bridge near a waterfall that leads to the village, but we want the trail that leads up beside the falls to the Castle."
As the morning advanced, the hills to the west became higher and more rugged. These, Cormac told Killian, were the foothills of the Frostback Mountains. Alistair turned them a little more north. He seemed more himself today – a combination, perhaps, of having something important to contribute, and being free of Morrigans' incessant sniping. Behind Cormac and Killian, meanwhile, Morrigan was engaged in a theological dispute with Leliana. The red-headed archer was – or acted as if she was – a devout Andrastian, while Morrigan clearly had no time for either the Maker or his Prophet. Leliana viewed her faith as a source of strength, while Morrigan saw it as a weakness.
Then, quite suddenly, Rufus – who had been in his usual place out front – stopped at gaze. Alistair stopped as well, holding up a hand to halt the rest. They loosened their weapons. Two figures came round the foot of a hill into the main trail.
"By the Maker!" Alistair exclaimed, darting forward. The taller of the newcomers also ran forward.
"You're alive!" She cried. "Thank the Creators!"
Killian had recognised Elana, the Dalish Grey Warden he had met briefly at Ostagar. As she greeted Alistair with a fierce -and apparently unexpected – hug, Killian noticed that her companion was indeed the Dwarf, Hendel. Hendel greeted Alistair with more restraint, but with evident relief, and the newcomers were introduced round.
"We have someone to introduce as well." Elana said, turning back to the hills and calling. "Come on, Shale! No need to be shy!"
A mellifluous, if somewhat hollow, voice replied. "I am not being shy. I merely wished to give it time to greet its' friends properly."
The figure that followed the voice was some seven feet tall, and disproportionately wide. It was human-shaped but made from rough-hewn stone, relieved by a set of bright orange crystals set into its shoulders and wrists. It surveyed the company, then shrugged its' massive shoulders.
"Humans." It said. "How utterly fascinating. I do hope they are not like those villagers."
"We found Shale in a village down south." Elana explained. "He'd been frozen in place for, what, thirty years or so. Anyway, we had a control rod a merchant gave us, so we activated him. He decided to come with us."
"Decided?" Morrigan asked. "The Golem has free will?"
"Control rods' broken." Hendel told her.
"Does the mage – it is a mage, isn't it?" Shale asked. "Does the mage have any objections?"
"I? No." Morrigan replied. "'Twas merely an expression of surprise. Golems are not usually free."
"Just a minute!" Alistair said. "This is all backwards! How did you two escape Ostagar? It was a massacre!"
"The advantage – the only advantage – of bearing company with a Dwarf." Elana told him. "Hendel, with the infallible instincts of his kin, found a tunnel."
"It was in a cliff-face, well-hidden." Hendel informed them. "The Darkspawn must have been working on it right under the scouts' noses for days. It led into some dungeons under the Tower of Ishal. Looks as if they'd been sealed off for centuries, because they had to break through the ceiling to get into the Tower itself."
"We saw the hole." Cormac told them. "We had to fight through Darkspawn to get to the beacon."
"If Teyrn Loghain had let Grey Wardens go with the scouts..." Elana fumed, then went on. "By the time we got there, the Tower was choked with Darkspawn, all trying to get to the top. We knew you'd be there, but there were too many for us to cut our way through. So we made our way back across the bridge to the Kings' camp.
"Some of the mages – who were a bit back from the front lines – had realised what was happening and come back. They, the Templars and the Chantry priests were freeing the prisoners and getting the wounded out of there. First time I've ever seen priests work with mages and not complain about it.
"By this time, the Darkspawn from the Tower were coming across the bridge, so we and the Templars held them off until the wounded were clear. Then we fell back to the camp and the mages set the whole place ablaze around the Darkspawn. Hendel and I got separated from the rest and had to go south into the Wilds"
"The Wilds?" Morrigan asked. "I would not have thought a stranger could have made their way out of the Korcari Wilds to here in so short a time, and still alive!"
"The advantage – the only advantage – of bearing company with a Dalish Ranger." Hendel replied, earning a grin from Elana. "You could blindfold Elana and spin her on the spot for about a week, and she'd still come out facing north!"
"My people would not have survived so long as wanderers, had we been prone to getting lost!" Elana pointed out.
"Anyway," Hendel went on, "we got as far as Honnleath. The town was being raided by Darkspawn, so we cleared them out and picked up Shale in the process. Then we went to Lothering, where the last of the villagers were packing up and leaving. Ser Bryant – head of the Templars there – told us about Loghains' activities. He also said he'd seen some Grey Wardens who were heading for Redcliffe. So we decided to follow.
"We didn't know it was you, of course, we thought you were dead on top of that Tower. We thought you might be some of the Orlesian Wardens Duncan sent for. We tried to follow you directly, but that whole area is crawling with Darkspawn now, and we needed to avoid the Bannorn because of Loghain. So we were driven west into the mountains. I admit, I also hoped to find some Dwarven traders who could take a message to Orzammar, warn them about the Blight.
"But as for you, how did you get away – grow wings and fly off the Tower?"
By the time the explanations were done, they had reached the river Alistair had spoken of.
"Hullo!" He said. "There's normally at least a couple of militia on the bridge, and the Arls' guard should have someone at the foot of the trail. What's going on?"
There was a guard – of sorts – on the bridge. A skinny, flaxen-haired lad in peasant clothes, carrying a bow, who hailed them with evident relief.
"Did our messages get through?" He asked. "Have you come to help?"
"We've come to see Arl Eamon." Cormac answered.
"To see the Arl?" The lad said. "Don't you know?"
"We know the Arl is ill, if that's what you mean." Killian told him.
"He could be dead for all we know!" The young guard burst out. "We haven't heard from the castle in days! And now, every night, things come out of the castle and attack us! More of them every night! I don't know how much longer we can hold out, Bann Teagan is all that's holding us together."
"Bann Teagan?" Alistair asked. "The Arls' brother? He's here?"
"Yes." The boy told him. "I'll take you to him, he'll want to speak to you. It's not far, come with me."
Teagan Guerrin, Bann of Rainesfere, was a man in his forties, lean and fit, but just about at the end of his tether. There were dark circles under his eyes that told of too much worry and not enough sleep. He recognised Alistair, greeting him with real pleasure. He also found Cormac familiar, and here Killian had confirmed what he had long suspected, that Cormac was the younger son of the Teyrn of Highever. Then they got down to business.
Teagans' tale was simple and tersely told. Three days ago, the Castle had been locked down, suddenly and without explanation. That night, and every night since, an army of animated corpses had come down from the Castle into the village, killing indiscriminately and carrying the bodies away with them. Each night they came in greater numbers, leading Teagan to believe that those killed were being added to the attacking force. Then, with the air of a desperate but determined man, he asked for their help.
Cormac and the other Grey Wardens, including Killian, agreed at once. Apart from anything else, this was probably the only way to unseal the castle and get to Arl Eamon. To Killians' surprise, Leliana was also keen to help, but more for the sake of the villagers, for whom she demonstrated genuine compassion. Perhaps it was time to reassess the wench.
Morrigan, however, held out long and ferociously against the idea.
"'Tis not our concern!" She argued. "This has naught to do with the Blight, there are no Darkspawn here. Our goal is to penetrate the castle and discover the fate of your Arl Eamon. Are we to waste our time and risk our lives aiding these pathetic villagers in a battle they cannot hope to win?
"Better we should take the opportunity to slip into the castle whilst these undead amuse themselves with the villagers!"
"The sexy mage is uncommonly ruthless." Shale pointed out. "But it does have a point. Not that I care either way, providing I have the opportunity to squish something soon. I would as soon crush undead as anything else."
At that point, Killian discovered something else about Cormac. Ignoring the Golems' comment, the young man turned on Morrigan and gave her a dressing-down worthy of a Regimental Sergeant-Major of the old school. For once lost for words, Morrigan left the table and withdrew into a corner, silence and - Killian privately suspected - tears. Without missing a beat, Cormac turned to Teagan and asked for more details about the tactical situation.
This led to a council of war, at which they were joined by Ser Perth, the most senior of a group of Redcliffe knights who had returned from their quest but been unable to enter the castle, Murdock, a gravel-voiced fisherman who was Mayor of the village and commanded the militia, and Revered Mother Hannah, of the Redcliffe Chantry.
A defensive point had been set up near the mill above the village, between the bridge and the steep path that led down into Redcliffe proper, this was manned by Ser Perth and his knights, and was the path by which the main force of attackers came. Murdock and the militia had set up a series of barricades in the village square in front of the Chantry to defend against any who got past the knights and the less numerous forces that came from the lakeside. Finally, those unable to fight were to take refuge in the Chantry. This was the sturdiest building in the village. Bann Teagan himself was to remain there, as a last defence, aided by two elderly but hale lay brothers, both former Templars.
There were problems, and Killian and his friends set about solving them. Ser Perth, a devout Andrastian, was insistent that his knights needed holy protection from the undead. Killian was able to wheedle Mother Hannah, a gaunt elderly woman with a severe face and a kindly manner, into providing the Knights with some of the medallions worn by Chantry priests. Mother Hannah felt that this was trickery, and Killian agreed, but pointed out the power of such morale boosters.
Meanwhile, Murdock was complaining that the blacksmith, Owen, had locked himself in the smithy and was refusing to work, despite the desperate need of the militia for repairs to their limited arms and armour. Cormac talked his way into the smithy to discover that Owen, a widower of two years, had nothing left but his daughter, Valena. Valena was a maid to the Arlessa, and was trapped up in the castle, leaving her father in despair. Cormac promised solemnly to try to rescue Valena, whereupon Owen, drunk as a lord but still master of his craft, set to work with a fine energy.
Hendel had sought out a Dwarf trader, Dwyn, who lived in the village. A seasoned fighter, Dwyn had nonetheless declined to assist the town thus far. By a combination of bribery and threats, Hendel managed to change his mind. Elana had gone to the inn and put a hundred silvers behind the bar – thus persuading the miserly landlord to provide free ale for the militia, to boost morale.
Leliana, who had accompanied Elana, spotted a suspicious stranger – an armed City Elf named Berwick -lurking in the bar, and the two women had frogmarched him down to Cormac. Under a brief interrogation, Berwick had admitted to being a spy, sent to report on the Arls' condition, but trapped by recent events and unable to report. When asked who he was spying for, he told them he'd been hired by Loghains' right-hand man, Arl Rendon Howe. On hearing that name, Cormacs' eyes had blazed with sudden anger, and he had curtly given Berwick the choice to either join the militia or die where he stood. Eyeing the big lads' hefty sword, Berwick agreed to help in the defence.
Finally, Alistair and Shale had turned up at the main defence point near the mill with several barrels of lamp oil they had found. They and the knights proceeded to construct a simple fire-trap which, even if it did not destroy the undead, would certainly slow them down.
By now, the day was waning, so the party returned to the Chantry. The first thing that happened, was that Morrigan approached Cormac, offering a meek apology and promising not to act so foolishly in future. This Cormac accepted with a word of thanks.
They then joined Bann Teagan for a hasty meal and a final consultation.
"If the attack follows the pattern you described," Cormac said, "the main and first attack will come down the trail from the castle. With us reinforcing the knights, we should be able to break the back of that assault fairly quickly.
"Murdock, you'll need to have scouts out, and as soon as you see attackers coming from the lake, send somebody up to let us know. Depending on the situation at the mill, some or all of us will come down to support the militia."
That settled, Teagan asked Ser Perth and Murdock to leave, as he had to speak privately with the Wardens.
"When I first arrived here," he told them, "my intention was to go directly into the castle to find out what had happened. There is a passage – a tunnel – that leads from the mill at the top of the village to the castle dungeons. It's a secret known only to the family, the entrance can only be opened with a family signet."
"Why didn't you go?" Killian asked.
Teagan sighed. "The attacks started that night. It was only by luck that we survived at all. After that, I could not in conscience abandon these people. Ser Perth and Murdock are both capable leaders of their own people, but they needed a single voice of command, and neither felt comfortable in claiming rank over the other. My father taught us all that the needs of our people come first."
"Just as my father taught Fergus and I." Cormac nodded. "I understand."
"Thank you, my lord." Teagan said. "Now, what I propose is this. Despite her unfortunate way of expressing herself, your companion Mistress Morrigan has a point. While the undead attack the village, there must be fewer of them actually inside the castle. It is possible that a small party could make their way inside and discover the fate of my brother, his wife Isolde and their son, Connor. Perhaps even rescue them.
"Do you think you can spare some of your party, Grey Wardens?"
The plan was, everyone agreed, a sound one. It just remained to decide who should do what. Cormac appealed to Killian for his judgement.
"I think," Killian said, "That with you, Alistair, and Shale in the front line – not forgetting Rufus, who's an army all by himself - and with Elana and Morrigan backing you up, that would be all the support the knights or militia need. Any more, and we'd start falling over one another.
"That leaves me, Hendel and Leliana to go into the castle. I'm sneakier than most. How does that suit you two?"
Hendel grunted. "I'm a Dwarf – more at home fighting between stone walls than under the sky. It's all right with me."
"And I," Leliana said, "am trained to detect traps and pick locks. Skills of more use inside the castle than without."
"Done!" Cormac said, then glanced out of the window. "Sun's going down. Time to get started, everyone!"