10. The Plot Thickens
"So, where'd this Levyn business come from?"
"Pardon?" The newest addition to our...well, I guess it's a group now turns to look at me in undisguised confusion as I leave the leading to Zevran. He supposedly knows this territory better. Or so he says.
"Why'd you change your name?" Curiousity is-once again-eating me alive, even though I told him I'm still calling him Jowan. I can tell that changing his name isn't all he did; his hair's a little longer, tied back in a low, scraggly ponytail that's a perfect match for the sorry excuse for a beard I noticed earlier.
He shrugs. "If the Knight-Commander is looking for a blood mage named Jowan, I figured I wouldn't be Jowan anymore. Hence the new name-"
"And the new look?" I resist the temptation to reach up and pull on his hair, settling instead for twitching the ragged sleeve of the tunic he's wearing. "Where'd those clothes come from, anyway? A rubbish heap?"
"Close enough." He rolls his shoulders in a mix of embarrasment and weariness. We've been walking for quite a while. "Found them in a pile of cast-offs behind a Chantry. I knew the robes had to go if I wanted to not draw attention to myself."
"So no one's guessed you're a mage? At all?"
"I avoid templars like the plague, and haven't used magic hardly at all since Redcliffe." It's a basic, detail-free explanation, but I take the hint not to press the issue yet. "I know they're still looking for me. Greagoir-the Knight-Commander isn't the type to give up on anything. Tracking an escaped blood mage is an especially worth cause."
"I remember meeting Greagoir. He didn't strike me as the type to give up." Stern, uncompromising, and perhaps incapable of smiling, but definitely not the type to give up.
Jowan nods. "The templars will be after me until they catch me. If they're looking for someone I'm not anymore, it's that much less likely they'll ever find me."
"Long as you're careful," I point out, while knowing he's probably already painfully aware of that fact.
"I know." He pushes his sleeve up high enough for me to see the jagged scar running from his wrist almost to his elbow. "They nearly caught me in a village near River Dane."
"And you're okay with running your whole life?" I can't imagine what that would be like.
"What choice do I have?" he mutters almost bitterly, "The templars aren't going to give up until they catch me." I can see the ending of that haunting his eyes. "It's harder without my phylactery, but they're persistant about these things."
And idea smacks into my skull. Slightly insane, more than a little desperate, but... "Unless they thought you were dead."
oOo
After he stops staring at me like I'm crazy-which maybe I am-he listens to my idea. Zev looks back when he catches one of my broad gestures out of the corner of his eyes. I've always been one to talk with my hands when I get really excited. When we set up camp that evening, he demands to know what I'm scheming now. I lean closer to the campfire-which was started the conventional way this time-as I explain my plan to him. If it's already the insane brand of brilliant coming from my brain, letting Zev in on it will make it the sensible-and more likely to succeed-brand of brilliant as well.
"I like the way you think, my dear minx," he chuckles when I finish. "Deception, a cover-up worthy of the Crows, and mostly well thought out for only being conceived this afternoon. However, there are a few flaws that I can see." He leans closer, grinning as I scoot back enough to make it clear this is business.
"That's why I told you. You're good at fixing flaws." Jowan watches our animated planning session with the closest thing to a smile I've seen cross his face. Which basically means he looks...relaxed, rather than scared. Good to know he trusts us. Something about him makes me think there aren't too many people he could trust in his past. One more thing to ask him about.
Finally, Zevran and I manage to work out a pretty damn good plan. If it wasn't wholly conceived based on deception, Alistair would be proud of me. I think. After ironing out as many details as we can at the moment, I re-explain the plan to Jowan.
We're going to fake me and Zevran killing him. We'll have to set up some spot close but not too close to a town to look like we ran into him and fought him, which means him using a bit of magic. "Just a fire spell to char a couple trees, maybe an arcane bolt, and hit one of us with a weakness spell." He practically turns green when I get through that list. He must have really been serious about this 'no magic' thing. A thought occurs to me. "Can...can templars sense the difference between regular magic and blood magic?" I know they can sense the after-effects of magic; Alistair more than once pointed out spots where the remnants of some spell or other hung.
Jowan's shoulders seem to sag a little as he nods. "They can."
I hate having to ask this. The poor man's been through enough already. "Then...are there any small blood magic spells?"
He nods again, looking miserable. "Yes."
Maker's Breath, I wish I didn't have to do this! "Then you'll have to cast one. I'm sorry," I say hastily as an expression of pure panic floods his face. "But if there's no evidence pointing to a blood mage, this whole thing will be for nothing, because they won't believe that it was you. You don't have to do it to either of us, just do something so there's traces of it in the area."
"I know," he sighs, sounding small. "I just..." He lets the sentence trail into oblivion and absently rubs the scar across his left palm.
"You just...what?" I ask, gently as possible. Zevran melts into the shadows, murmuring something about taking first watch.
"I swore I was done with that after..." He snaps a twig off the branch he's been fingering and tosses it into the fire, almost viciously, which doesn't seem like him.
If regret were to assume human form, it couldn't do a better job than to exactly imitate the man sitting next to me. I tamp down the rampant curiosity squirming in my chest. He doesn't need the questions of an overly-curious elf right now.
oOo
We go over the plan multiple times in the course of the next couple days, always tweaking little details. Well, Zevran does most of the tweaking. Despite all his remarks about how I'm a natural at this, I know he's the real expert at planning these sorts of things.
"You know, my dear Rahna, you really should plot to deceive templars more often," he chuckles as I point out a contradiction in our stories.
"Why is that?" I ask, tone half suspicious and half teasing as I brush back my hair. It's grown some since...that day, but not enough to make a ponytail.
"Because I haven't ever seen you look more alive, well, at least not recently," he amends, giving me a dirty grin that clues me in to exactly what he's talking about. I really don't want to talk about that, especially with Zevran, for Andraste's sake. And especially not in front of someone else.
"I think it's more helping a friend than lying to templars that's brought me to life, Zev."
"As you wish, Rahna." His grin hints that he doesn't completely believe me, but he doesn't say anything more.
We settle on the town to use for our deception, camping far enough away the night before that no one will see us. Jowan is incredibly tense. I guess I can't really blame him, all things considered. But he's a dead man walking anyway if we don't try this, so Zev and I have more to worry about than he does. I doubt even being the Hero of Ferelden exempts you from the consequences of aiding a blood mage if the templars catch you.
"Calm down. It'll be fine," I reassure Jowan, resting one hand on his arm. "Nothing to worry about."
He gives me a small-and still nervous-smile. "I know. I also know I have the easy part." He gets to hide while Zevran and I are spinning our tale. "But I like to worry. It drove Miri absolutely insane."
"Who's Miri?"
"My best friend back at the Tower." He gives a bitter half-laugh. "More like the only one who would put up with me. She helped me find my phylactery and destroy it so I could escape." He rubs the back of his neck guiltily. "I wish I knew what happened to her. I...I wasn't a very good friend."
Again I find myself swearing to dig out his story-before and after Redcliffe-in its entirety. But not now. I don't want him distracted tomorrow. We have to make it look good.
oOo
When we find a spot that will work perfectly, Jowan sets about his part of our grand deception. Like he said last night, it's the easy part. He just has to torch a couple trees, work a small blood magic spell, maybe launch one arcane bolt, and then hit me with a weakness spell. He seems especially unhappy about that last part.
Zevran, keeping watch at the edge of the staged battle scene, makes a discovery that, while gross and disgusting, will be an invaluable addition to our plan. A body, half-hidden in a nearby ditch. It looks like a beggar who went a little too long between meals. The man hasn't been dead long, but still I let Zevran be the one to touch him. It. When Jowan sees what he's doing, he makes a face that probably mirrors the disgust on mine.
"We can put him near one of the trees, make it look like the body was burned by the mage's own fire after we killed him." Zevran shoots me a devious grin as he pulls out his dagger and jams it in the corpse's chest a couple times.
"That's gruesome." I wrinkle my nose as my stomach lurches in protest.
"But necessary, my dear," Zev retorts as he lets the body flop next to one of the blazing trees. "Are you done, my friend?" The question is directed at Jowan.
"Halfway." He means done except for the two things he's unhappiest about doing: the blood magic and hitting me with a weakness spell.
"Jowan, I wish there was some way you wouldn't have to do blood magic, trust me, but if we want them to believe it was you-"
"Wait a moment." His eyes light up with an idea and he shakes his head. "I can't believe I didn't think of it sooner." He reaches inside his tunic and tugs something free. "Here. Anyone from the Tower would know that this is mine." He holds out the item to me. "It's the one thing I couldn't give up."
I take it almost mechanically. It's a necklace, small pewter medallion dangling from the snapped leather cord. There's an arcane rune etched on one side, and the metal seems to pulse with warmth as I cradle it in my palm and wrap the cord around my hand. "Alright, alright, you're off the hook for the blood magic-" I can't help but smile as he sighs in relief "-but you still need to hit me with weakness. Not much, but something. It'll make our story ten times more believable if we don't emerge unscathed from fighting a maleficar."
He grimaces. "Good point." He turns and adds a bit to the fire devouring the trees behind us.
"Quit stalling." It's the closest thing to an order I've given since Fort Drakon, and he hears it in my tone. I watch the shimmering, rippling ball of sickly-looking magic form in his hand and try not to wince in anticipation. I fought things that used weaknes before, and I'm not too happy about this arrangement myself. But we agreed that since Zev's the better-and more practiced-liar of the two of us, he needs to have his head clear. Besides, I wouldn't have volunteered anyone but myself for this.
When the spell hits me I nearly tumble. It isn't overpowering weakness, but I still feel shaky.
Zevran grabs my arm and drapes it around his shoulders, hissing "Go" at Jowan before he and I make our slow way toward the town and the most terrifying ordeal I've faced since the Landsmeet: another battle of words rather than blades. Maker help me...
A/N: So, more build up. :) I wanna get to the scene, but the whole 'not-if-they-think-you're-dead' thing popped out of Rahna without me planning it, and that tangent intrigued me. And challenged me. And when an idea does BOTH, it needs to be indulged. And how to make it work was surprisingly easy to invent. When the details emerge, we'll see if it was too good to be true.
The fact that this has reached TEN chapters is funny when you consider it was originally planned as a one-shot...and then a two or three chapter short story...and then just supposed to go through the end of Origins...and then I'm looking at a double digit chapter number...and a couple characters I did NOT plan on making major(but Zev's too fun and I just can not resist Jowan). And I know for a fact here will be at least two more chapters, because this insane plot of hers is going to probably take a chapter, and then there's still The Scene. That and its fall-out will probably be a whole 'nother chapter...and then I'll probably skip time some cuz I'm REALLY curious how Rahna would react to the Awakening companions.