Author's note: Due to odd upload issues with the site, I hope you will forgive the slight delay in this posting. I would also like to take the opportunity to thank everyone who's been reading, and especially those who take a little time to write a review. :) I hope you're enjoying the ride!
It was not a good time to be an elf in Markham City.
Zevran watched as a patrol of guards in the square accosted a pair of his kin. Both faces were grabbed by less-than-gentle hands, turned from side to side then shoved away. One of the guards made a display of wiping his hands on his leggings, to the amusement of his fellows and the anger of one of the elves. Neither of them stood up for themselves, however, which was probably just as well—they were not in the alienage and would get no help from the passing humans. Or Zevran, for that matter.
And Asleena was nowhere to be seen yet.
Zevran continued to wait as he had for the past hour, consciously tensing and relaxing his muscles every so often to prevent cramps, and kept a close watch on everything and everyone around the Chantry.
This was the only place he was sure she would eventually come to, and it was close to sunset. He had not been willing to risk seeking her out, so he'd spent his night and day as a wanted criminal doing the things he did best: sneaking around, slitting throats, and convincing some beautiful women he was welcome in their home (and more than welcome in other areas). Zevran was, to put it in other words, in his element, even enjoying himself to some extent—or so he tried to convince himself. It was better than dwelling on other things.
She walked right past him then, Ferrix as always by her side. Zevran remained still, sent a rare prayer to the Maker that the warhound would not scent him, and breathed an inward sigh of relief when the pair continued on towards the Chantry without even glancing at his place of concealment. Being careful not to move his head too much or too quickly, Zevran looked for any stalking Crows and found one without much effort—a female elf following at a distance. That would be the decoy. He lifted his eyes to the vantage point he would have selected were he bound to the rooftops and was rewarded with a brief flicker of movement into the shadow of a stone gargoyle. Conveniently enough, this put Zevran in a nice little blind spot for that particular watcher.
The elf Crow passed him by and headed for the knot of guards, who viewed her approach with a mixture of apprehension and dislike. Zevran smiled tightly and returned his attention to Asleena as she spoke to the Templars, trying to get a good idea of her current state. She was making an effort to appear determined but he could tell, even from this distance, that she was exhausted. The woman had probably neither slept nor eaten all day, if only due to the fact that she had no money on her. This would change very soon.
There was a boy begging for alms not far away; Zevran had dropped several coins into his bowl earlier to ensure this would be so. Now he motioned the child over, deposited a pair of silvers then showed him a sparkle of gold.
"And now, my young friend, that job I promised. Do you see the lady in red armour speaking with the Templars at the Chantry door? I wish you to circle around the square to about…that point there, then take this pouch to her. See? There is only a little silver within and a scrap of worthless paper. Return here when you are done and you will find this gold coin hidden where I sit. Cheat me and you will find nothing. Are we agreed?"
The boy grinned, nodded, took the pouch and started swiftly around the outskirts of the square as Zevran had indicated. The former Crow rose slowly, letting the filthy horse-blanket that had covered him fall. He tucked the gold coin into the rag nest, waited only long enough to be sure Asleena had the pouch in her hands, then slipped away into the evening shadows.
"Your friend Alistair did come here, Warden. One of the others said he was interested in the Chanter's Board, took a couple of jobs a week or so ago and that's the last they saw of him."
Asleena looked from the Templar to his younger companion, trying to figure out if she was being deceived. Random stories about Alistair had started sprouting like mushrooms, and biting at any of them was bound to take her on just as wild a trip. She had eagerly followed a few leads earlier in the day before catching on to the conspiracy. The net result, of course, was that even if she did find real news of Alistair she had no way of separating truth from fiction except intuition…or jumping after every rumour she heard, which would drive her insane.
Xai's work. If Alistair was in Markham, the assassin was making sure she'd never find him without a Crow to point the way.
"What jobs did he take?" Asleena asked.
"There were two," the Templar said. "The first pertained to a problem near Ostwick in the south, something to do with cannibals initially, but Alistair reported the true threat was a Hunger Demon possession."
So far, that was the most damn convincing story she'd heard all day. "Is he still in the city?"
"We don't know, Warden." The Templar smiled apologetically. "We don't guard the city gates."
"…sod." She rubbed her eyes and sighed. "All right. Please…anything else?"
"He stated he would make the trip to the Circle Tower at Starkhaven, but he took another job, like I said—a local one based in the alienage. As it has not been completed he may yet be in Markham." He nodded towards the Chanter's Board. "It's still on display. The only one concerning elves, except for this murder business."
"Your other friend, the elf you had with you yesterday. That was Zevran Arainai?" the other Templar asked.
She nodded. "And innocent, believe it or not."
He looked troubled. "I suppose time will tell whether or not that matters, Warden."
Asleena nodded, thanked them and walked back down the steps, glancing around the square as she did. This was the last place she had any hope of glimpsing Zevran, but with all the guards singling out elves and her occasional Crow sighting she could feel that hope dwindling. More often than not she caught sight of Xai…or she thought she did. He was never there when she looked twice, and it was wearing on her already frayed nerves. She was becoming paranoid that if she did find Zevran it would only be to lead him into a trap.
She headed for the Chanter's Board. Even if it didn't help her locate Alistair, she might as well take a job herself so she could buy some food, not to mention a room for the night. Having left everything she didn't need back in Denerim with Fergus, she didn't have much on her she particularly wanted to sell.
"Lady?" a child's piping voice called hesitantly.
It was one of several street urchins she'd seen around. Young, brown-haired and carrying a small wooden bowl. Currently his wide dark eyes were fixed on Ferrix, who stood just as tall as he and was looking straight back at him.
"Ferrix won't hurt you," Asleena said, crouching beside the mabari and ruffling his ears. "If you're after money, though, I'm afraid I don't—"
The boy pulled a leather pouch from his clothes and held it out to her. "I have to give this to you."
Asleena took it, casting a quick glance towards some distant guards. They and a leather-armoured elf woman were watching her closely. "Who's this from?" she asked the boy, pulling the drawstrings open, but he only shrugged.
Silver coins. And a note.
Feeling the eyes still on her, she stood up, dropped a coin into the child's bowl and turned away. Approaching the Chanter's Board, she tried to unfold the piece of parchment within the darkness of the pouch so she could read it without risk.
The writing was cramped, but she could make it out:
'To prove it is me, I still want to know who gave me that bath. If it was Ferrix I will never forgive you.'
'Eat something. Visit a few brothels to ask after Alistair. Finish at The Silver Veil in the merchant quarter. I will be there.'
'Destroy this note quickly.'
Asleena's grin at the opening line became a puzzled frown. "Destroy…?"
There was a disturbance behind her. Guards were closing in with purposeful expressions, pushing through the citizens coming to or from the Chantry. The elf woman had vanished completely.
Uh oh.
Asleena crumpled the note in her fist and closed the pouch. Were she a mage she could have set the parchment aflame with a thought. There would be fire within the Chantry, but she'd have to run people over to make it there, and the note was too small to tear up effectively enough to destroy…
She knelt in front of Ferrix and opened her hand. "Sorry to ask this of you, boy, but I promise that if you eat this right now I'll buy you the best steak I can afford for dinner tonight."
"Warden! You have stolen property upon your…oh."
Asleena made a face at the ropey strands of slobber hanging from her fingers and rubbed her warhound's head in an effort to try and dislodge some of it. Looking up at the chagrined faces of the guards, she smiled cheerfully. "I have a bit of silver, but I don't think the Crows will be interested."
One of the men inspected the pouch when she tossed it over, shook his head and threw it back. "Forget it," he said in a resigned voice after giving Ferrix a very long look. "We don't get paid enough to poke through dog crap. The assassins can have that pleasure." With a gesture, he led his squad away.
Ferrix stuck his nose in Asleena's ear and she laughed for the first time that day, hugging him exuberantly around the neck. "Good boy."
The Silver Veil was an expensive brothel that bordered on being palatial. There were white marble pillars and floaty silk curtains, the floors were patterned and polished stone tiles all in shades of grey and glittering with flecks of some silver mineral. The arched windows were large enough to flood the main room with light during the hours of day, but with the sun set a vast array of white candles had been lit, some in sconces, others in hanging chandeliers. This filled the chamber with a warm glow, and every metallic surface glittered gold.
Zevran had picked the location for reasons other than aesthetics. First of all, the brothel was exclusive enough to have its own protection, and the guards were very well paid. Secondly, part of The Silver Veil's charm was the clothes its employees could wear. The brothel prided itself on an element of mystique, so many of the whores selected garments that completely concealed their features. It had proven a popular enough characteristic that a number of dedicated clients came similarly disguised when they visited.
Asleena came dressed in her armour.
In retrospect, perhaps he should have given her additional money to buy some new clothes. Zevran smiled behind his mask, observing the Grey Warden's faintly uncomfortable expression as she looked around. Ferrix paced on her right while Valinay, one of the owners of the Veil and a gorgeous redhead into the bargain, walked on her left.
"I should warn you," Valinay was saying, "that once you've enjoyed the attentions of one of our artists you may forget this 'Alistair' of yours. We have hot scented baths, the softest beds you could ask for, and skilled hands to rub the tension from your muscles."
With a clap of the mistress's hands, a dozen white-clothed men and women not presently occupied with clients rose from the scattered divans and drifted silently into line. Asleena's face became a little more uneasy when she appraised the gathering and failed to find Zevran's face, but she approached one end of the line and began a slow walk past each prostitute. They issued a small bow in turn, murmuring a few select words.
"Your desire, my lady," Zevran said when she reached him, inclining his head. She paused briefly, continued to the end of the line with unhurried steps, then returned to Valinay, who smiled at her.
"Do any of them please you, my lady?"
Asleena nodded and pointed at Zevran. "That one."
"Then he is yours."
The others workers moved away from him and he bowed again, more deeply this time, and extended a white-gloved hand towards her. Asleena took it, and he led her across the polished floor to one of the bedrooms in the back. As soon as the door was closed and he'd removed his mask, he was surprised to find her arms around him.
"Thank the Maker you're all right," she said, hugging him fiercely.
"Indeed," he replied, sliding one hand around her waist and smoothing her hair with the other. "I'm thanking Him very hard right now."
She pulled away at that, wearing an expression both exasperated and amused, but her voice was concerned. "Were you hurt? You got away all right?"
"I am fine, but I saw the state of Taelin's body when they removed it from The Dancing Halla. You came to no harm?" he asked, frowning at her.
She looked sickened, but shook her head. "They didn't touch me. You've been accused of rape as well as murder, though."
"Yes. The reward for my capture is almost as handsome as I am." He motioned her deeper into the room and she followed after telling Ferrix to remain by the door.
It wasn't a large chamber, but the size of the bed made up for that. There was a fire dancing in the hearth and a white fur resting before it. On a small silverwood table rested a bowl of fruit, a pitcher of water and a bottle of wine, along with two glasses. There were a few windows set high near the ceiling, but they were too small for any but the exceptionally slender to climb through.
"Bad place to be cornered," Asleena commented, sinking into a chair by the table.
Zevran chuckled as he unwound the head-wrap that concealed his hair and pointed ears. "There is a whore-hole—a quick exit in the case of unruly customers. I trust you will be gentle with me."
"I hope you weren't expecting—"
"I always hope, but no. I would never expect anything of you that you do not wish to give. I can offer you that massage again, however, and before you ask…just the massage. You look like you could use one." He gestured towards the bed in silent invitation.
"After we talk I just might take you up on that. As it is, the moment I lie down I'm going to fall asleep." She hesitated. "How long am I meant to stay? How much will this cost?"
"Never fear. You are expected to stay all night and I will leave you enough coin to pay in the morning."
"That much, hm?" She smiled slightly. "Pay here must be good. Thinking of changing professions?"
"Hah…no. I have no wish to go back to this life, pleasurable though it can be at times." He took the other chair and opened the wine. "To business then. Have you discovered who's running this show?"
"All signs currently point to a Crow named Xai…Merras, I believe his last name was. Do you know anything about him?"
"Xai Merras is a master assassin. The Crows often take an interest in political marriages outside Antiva, usually to ensure they take place. I am guessing his priorities changed." Zevran poured the wine, a pale gold concoction, and handed one glass to Asleena.
"You don't sound worried," she noted. "If he's a master assassin isn't he better than you?"
"For shame, Asleena." He motioned with his glass, maintaining a confident smile for her benefit. "Xai Merras, like most of the masters, considers himself a craftsman. Any mark can be killed, but it is the manner of death, how it is brought about, which supposedly defines skill. Personally I find such methods inefficient. Death is death. Why complicate it with smoke and mirrors unless it is necessary?" He shrugged and took a sip of his wine. "He enjoys challenge, misdirection, and using others to achieve his goals."
She watched him from over the rim of her glass. "Like Taelin? She was involved, wasn't she?"
He cocked his head at her. "Who told you that?"
"No one. Her father denied she'd do such a thing, but I remembered hearing her scream at the inn, and that crossbow bolt looked like it had gone through a lung." Asleena paused. "That kind of injury would have made it hard for her to draw enough air to cry out, Zev, which means she signalled the attack. Her guards were pretty quick to react too, now that I think back."
"Well, you are right. She was involved, but I can't say if she expected to die. Alive she might have made a fairly convincing 'witness'."
"Why kill her then?"
"It may have been an accident. Shooting through glass can be tricky." Zevran thought a moment. "Or maybe Master Xai simply preferred to run the game his way rather than depend on the lies of another. That would seem more likely to me."
"Perhaps. Either way, Taelin must have hated you pretty badly to risk something like that." She looked him straight in the eye, and for some reason he found himself unable to meet her gaze for long. "About Rinna—"
"Asleena," he began, "I know I promised I would tell you—"
"I won't hold you to that." She held her glass between both hands, staring down at it now. "If you ever want to talk about it, then I'll be here. I just thought I should warn you I heard a version of what happened from Taelin's father. I have to tell you everything I heard if we're going to decide what to do."
Zevran let her explain what had happened in Markham's keep, everything she'd seen and heard, without interruption. He betrayed no emotion even when she reached the part about Rinna, which was accurate enough that he saw no need to elaborate for now. The only time he let his interest show was at Roja's proposal of capturing and torturing Xai.
"That is an intriguing idea," he said when she'd finished.
"Do I need to tell you I don't approve of torture?"
"No, but you would not be the torturer. Your hands would be completely clean, yes?"
"Delivering him to be tortured amounts to the same thing," she said severely. "It's not right. I don't care how repulsive the man is."
"Then you have another plan?"
"I was hoping you'd be able to help me with that."
Zevran let out a sigh. "Has it ever occurred to you that there might be a certain breed of person who deserves worse than torture?"
She scowled at him. "You're actually going to try and talk me into this?"
"Rendon Howe. If you'd had the chance, my dear, would you not have tortured him?"
"We'll never know, will we?"
"You despised Howe because he betrayed, murdered, even had people tortured. Xai Merras does the same, but not out of any desires of ambition. Assassination to him is a joy, a game, not a job."
"So? Does that mean I have to resort to their methods to get anywhere?"
Zevran leaned towards her, meeting her frown with an intense gaze. "There is a teaching among the Crows that he aspires to:
'For the true hunter, it is the chase and not the kill.
'For the true trapper, it is rumour and half-truth, not steel and spring.
'For the true poisoner, it is the mixture of words, not reagents.
'For the true stalker, it is the blinding light, not the concealing shadows.
'For the master assassin, death by your own blade is simple; death by another's is art; death by their own is glory.'
"That is the kind of man we are dealing with, Asleena."
"A sodding nutter?" She took a swallow of wine and set the glass down. "I get it. He's a bastard. But I don't like this. There are some boundaries I don't want to cross, even as a Grey Warden." She sat quietly for a moment, looking at nothing, then reached up and started unbuckling her armour. "If you don't mind, I need to sleep on this. No massage. I'm just…not in the mood."
He hid his disappointment and nodded. "As you wish. Whatever you decide, we still have to catch Xai. I will try to think of something good while you rest."
A few minutes later, she was already fast asleep in the great bed. Zevran wasted a few moments gazing down on her then poured himself more wine. Asleena's compassion and mercy were two traits he owed his life to after his dubious attempt on her life so long ago, and here he was trying to break holes in those virtues. She had limits on whom she spared, but if she chose to mete out justice it was always cold and quick, never cruel. Even Howe's death had been swifter than the one she'd claimed to have wanted for him.
She had already killed innocents to save Zevran. Now this happened. What else would she do for his sake? What would he turn her into?