Act One

Chapter Seven

A Business Discusion

After making plans with Carver for their mission later that night, Paden went by herself to the Hanged Man to meet with Varric. He had a suite there, which he had been living in for some time now if all the accumulated stuff decorating the place was any indication.

Paden peeked her head in hesitantly and knocked on the open door. "Hello?" she called softly.

The dwarf came out of the adjoining bedroom and grinned when he saw her. "Hawke, good, you found me. Take a seat." He gestured to a chair at the large table that dominated the main room of the suite.

Paden sat down and folded her hands on her lap as she glanced around. The wall on her left was lined with three huge book cases, all filled with an assortment of dusty volumes. Dane and the Werewolf, Cautionary Tales for the Adventurous, and Traditional Dwarven Folk Songs, were a few that caught Paden's eye at a glance. She would love to spend a few hours browsing Varric's collection. Paden loved books, but her family had owned only two or three since leaving Lothering. Not that she had a lot of time to read these days.

On the wall above the nearest bookcase was a huge impressionist's work of a city in the mountains. The design of it almost looked like it could be Kirkwall, or the Gallows even, but the setting was wrong. It made Paden frown as she studied it for a moment. She'd never cared much for impressionist art.

"Well, you have quite a collection of books," she commented.

"A lifetime's worth," Varric agreed, admiring the shelves.

"Have you read them all?"

The dwarf nodded. "Actually wrote a few of them myself." He pointed to a short row of plain, cloth bound volumes with no titles on their spines.

"So you're a writer then?" Paden said in surprise.

Varric chuckled and shook his head. "No, not a writer. I'm a storyteller. There is a difference." He waved it away. "I write some of the better ones down, for posterity. They're not published though."

"So, what sorts of stories do you tell?" Paden asked. "True ones or fairy tales?"

"Anything that pulls at the heart or ignites the imagination, Hawke. All my stories have a ring of truth to them."

Paden chuckled. "Just a ring of truth?"

Varric spread his hands. "Hey, if the truth is in there, who cares what it sounds like, right?"

Paden shook her head, chuckling again. "An interesting philosophy."

The dwarf grinned. "What can I say? It works for me."

He took a large rolled piece of parchment off a side board and laid it out on the table in front of Paden, placing a couple empty mugs on the corners to keep it from rolling back up. It was a map of the Free Marches around Kirkwall.

"So, here's the thing," Varric said, getting down to business. "We need to find a way into the Deep Roads. Bartrand can lead us to the right place once we're down there, but we need a good entrance."

"Any entrance would do, wouldn't it?" Paden said. "Well, unless a dragon's sitting in it I suppose."

Varric braced his hands on the edge of the table and stared down at the map. "We need an entrance that's close to our destination," he said. "But one that's not already plundered or filled with Darkspawn."

"And how do we find one of those?" Paden asked. "I doubt there's a monthly periodical that lists all the best locations and times for questing in the Deep Roads."

Varric chuckled at that. "The Deep Roads Explorer: When to Go, What to Bring, and How to Survive. If only it were that easy." He shook his head. "Bartrand had an entrance lined up, but it was a bust." He scratched his head as he gazed at the map. "I'll keep looking, but I did receive some new information that might be useful." He stood upright and looked at Paden. "There's a Gray Warden in the city, and if anyone knows how to get down there, it'll be him."

"Why would a Gray Warden know that?" Paden asked. The only thing she knew about Gray Wardens was that they fight Darkspawn, they stopped the Blight, and that one of them had just become King of Ferelden.

"The Warden's don't just fight Darkspawn," Varric said. "They forge into the Deep Roads all the time. And if he doesn't know, he might be able to point us to those who do."

"What's a Gray Warden doing in Kirkwall?" Paden asked.

Varric shrugged. "Who knows? Wardens never tell anyone what they're doing. But supposedly he came in with some other Ferelden refugees not long ago."

"So he's actually living in the city then? But how do we find him?"

"There's a Lowtown woman named Lirene who's been helping Fereldens. If we talk to her, maybe we learn where he is."

"Lirene?" Paden said, recognizing the name. "As in Lirene's Ferelden Imports? The store by the Bazaar?"

"That's the one," Varric confirmed.

"I'll right, I'll go tomorrow," Paden said.

"I'll go with you," Varric offered.

Paden smiled and inclined her head in agreement. "So, now tell me more about this expedition, Varric. What are your plans, exactly?"

Varric blew a sputtery breath between his lips. "Bartrand's running the show," he said, a hint of distain in his voice. "Andraste's ass, he'd probably do that even if we weren't paying for everything." He sighed and shook his head. "The thaig we're looking for is supposed to be a weeks travel from the surface, so I hope you aren't scared of the dark."

Paden chuckled. "Me, afraid of the dark? I've spent the last year working at night in a crime-infested city. As long as there are no Templars in the Deep Roads I think I'll be fine."

"So the threat of Darkspawn doesn't scare you then?" Varric asked with an arched eyebrow.

Paden shrugged. "It's nothing I haven't faced before." In truth the idea of facing hundreds of Darkspawn on their own turf did scare her. She just tried not to think about it.

"That's right," Varric said, pointing a finger at her. "I hear you killed an ogre." He chuckled in amazement. "I'd like to know what was going through your head in that moment."

Paden's smile faded slightly as memories of that horrible moment rushed back to the forefront. Bethany lying on the ground, crushed and bleeding. She shoved the images aside and forced on a smile. "Well, for the first few seconds I thought, 'what do they feed those things?'" It was a witty lie to cover the horrible grief and guilt she really felt. A quick way to shrug off the topic without revealing what was behind her carefully constructed mask.

It seemed to work on Varric. He laughed and shook his head in amazement. "I've never met anyone else who's even seen one. You're lucky just to be sitting there."

Was she? Was she really that lucky? Bethany sure hadn't been. But Paden kept that fake smile on her face, never once even hinting that this conversation was tying her stomach up in knots. She had to get the topic back on track.

"So is there nothing left to plan out then?" she asked.

Varric shrugged. "We've got the supplies, muscle, excavators… the plan is to carry out everything that's not nailed down. The only thing we still need is an actual entrance."

"So, what do we do, then, if this Gray Warden can't help us? Are there no other options?"

Varric sighed. "None at the moment. I'll keep looking. But if we don't find something, we'll have a fancy expedition with nowhere to go."

Paden chuckled. "Sounds like you have it all planned out, Varric."

He bowed dramatically. "And that, messere, is why I'm here."

Paden chuckled again as Varric gathered up the map. she decided that she liked this dwarf. His easy-going manner and ready smile made him a pleasure to be around. He seemed like he had a good head on his shoulders, and Paden was feeling more and more confident about the expedition. They needed only two more things; the money and an entrance. Success was just at the tips of their fingers. So, so close.

Varric put the rolled map back on the sideboard and then turned around to face Paden again. "So, that brother of yours…" he said, and arched an eyebrow at her.

Paden laughed shortly as she fingered the handle of one of empty mugs that had held the map down. "That's a loaded sentence if I've ever heard one."

"Does he have a particular problem or was he born that way?"

Paden shook her head, her gaze locked on the mug. "He's…trying to work things out for himself," she said. "And he suffers from being the younger brother."

"I know all about that," Varric said. "Maybe I can give him a few pointers."

"You're welcome to try," Paden said. "But I'll warn you right now, he has a sense of humor the size of a pea."

Varric snorted and waved it away. "I am not easily intimidated, Hawke. No worries."

Paden sighed and rested her elbows on the table. "There's this thing…" she hesitated, desperately wishing she had someone to talk to, but not sure if Varric could or should be that person. After all, she barely knew him, and he had no reason to care about her apart from their business arrangement. She shook her head and didn't finish her sentence.

Varric waited a moment before prompting, "This thing?"

She shook her head again. "Nothing…just family business. Carver's not really on board with it. But it's important to me, to our mother."

"Anything I can help with?" Varric asked.

Paden smiled slightly. "It's kind of you to ask, but I don't see how. Not unless you know the Viscount and can convince him to let us have our family estate back."

"Afraid not," Varric said. "So your family has—or had—an estate, in Hightown?"

Paden nodded. "My mother is an Amell. Before I was born our family was very well respected in Kirkwall. But…my uncle sold the estate to pay off a debt, and now we're all forced to live in the slums. He claims that my mother didn't inherit a single copper when grandfather died, but I don't believe him."

"You think he's lying?" Varric asked.

"He's not exactly forthcoming about any of it," Paden said. "And he's really defensive. And he conveniently left the will locked in the vault in the old estate when he sold it. So there's no way to prove our suspicions short of storming the estate and seeing for ourselves."

"So, when are you planning that little midnight raid?" Varric asked.

Paden laughed. "What makes you think we'd ever do such a thing?"

"Come on, Hawke, I know more about you than you realize; I've been following your work for a long time. You're not the type to sit back and let others tell you what to do or how to live."

Paden considered that. In a way he was right; she didn't like being told what to do or how to live, and that was the main reason why she and Athenril clashed so often. But Varric didn't really know her, not the real her. He knew the woman she had been forced to become since arriving in Kirkwall. That woman had been forced to be strong, all the time, with no compromise. That woman had been forced to endure things most women only worried about in their worst nightmares. That woman had been forced to be on the run for her life for more than a year now, and she was tired. Tired to the bone.

Paden didn't want to be that woman anymore. She didn't want to be strong all the time. Sometimes she just wanted to break down and cry on someone's shoulder. She wanted a normal life, one of quiet happiness, a husband, and possibly children one day. A life of normal days filled with normal activities.

But Varric didn't know that Paden Hawke. He likely never would.

She inclined her head in agreement to his statement. "Well, if you must know, we're planning on sneaking in tonight. Carver has a key to the old cellar door that opens in Darktown. We could potentially sneak in and out without anyone realizing."

"And you were going to go on this little adventure without me?" Varric asked, putting on a mock hurt tone.

"Well, it's not exactly something you ask your new business partner," Paden pointed out.

"Maybe so," Varric said, spreading his hands. "But I'm a storyteller, Hawke. I can't exactly tell stories if I'm never there to see them."

Paden chuckled. "I guess you have a point. Well, Varric, if you'd like to come along I won't turn away your help, that's for sure. Truth be told I have no idea what we're getting ourselves into. We may need all the help we can get."