Chapter 11
Anders's clinic was just as musty and bleak as the rest of Darktown, but somehow, the smell of herbs overpowered it all. A little bit of sunshine streamed into the room from a series of small windows. Tattered old cots rested around the room, occupied and vacant. The poor, sick folks of Kirkwall lay, sat, or stood around the room, suppressing coughs, letting out coughs, clutching their heads, their bellies, or whatever in slight pain or outright agony.
Ronan followed Hawke to the back of the room. Pity welled up inside of him for these poor, sick folk, even if they were shems. It was not so long ago that his own mother had nearly died of sickness. The sudden thought of family sent an ache through his left arm. He couldn't help but wince at the sharp pain. To his regret, Hawke noticed. She arched a brow questioningly toward him.
"It's nothing," he said, waving away her concern. "Where is Anders?"
A blonde man in a long coat arose from the side of a sick person. He turned to Ronan and Hawke with a look of surprise. "Hawke?"
"Anders," Hawke replied. "I've brought you somebody. Ronan. He says he knows you."
Hawke nodded toward Ronan and Anders shifted his attention to Ronan. He studied Ronan closely with a thoughtful look on his face. Ronan felt slightly uncomfortable for some odd reason.
"I never said I knew him." Ronan muttered.
"Whatever." Hawke said. "He also said he is the brother to the Hero of Ferelden."
Ronan sighed. What did all this matter? He just wanted to get to the root of the matter, to why he was here. There was only so much time before Ty did something stupid, before Anwen lost herself in the Circle of Magi, and most importantly, before his sword ended up in someone else's hands.
"You know, Hawke," Anders fingered his chin in thought as he scrutinized Ronan some more. "I do think I've met this man before. Though he never said anything about being the Commander's brother, only that he was looking for him."
"It didn't matter then and it doesn't matter now." Ronan grumbled. He stared defiantly at Hawke. "Believe me or not, I am his brother. Let's just get on with this."
"I see the resemblance." Anders said much to Hawke's surprise. "The physical resemblance at least. It's those eyes, they are the exact same as Tristan's. But he is much more patient and polite than you are. You still haven't learned manners. At least you didn't sneak your way in this time."
Hawke laughed.
Ronan couldn't take her insolence anymore. "This was a waste of time." He turned away and started to walk out. He felt Hawke grab at his arm and shook her away.
"Stay. I'm leaving." Hawke said. "I promised Fenris I'd pay him a visit by day's end, even though I think I've had enough elf brooding to last me a week at least."
Ronan ignored Hawke and turned his attention to Anders who was frowning as Hawke sauntered out of his clinic with an oblivious and friendly "See you later, Anders."
"So," Anders finally said after a moment, "what is it that you just wanted to get on with?"
Now that he had Anders's attention, Ronan wasn't sure where to begin. Should he start with Anwen being dragged away by the Templars? What about all these people in the clinic? Could they be trusted? He eyed the room suspiciously and Anders noticed what he was doing.
"Something dangerous?" Anders asked.
"Most likely. Can we speak privately?"
Anders moved toward a corner and gestured for Ronan to follow. "If we speak softly, nobody will hear. So what is this about? Is it Melisende? She was here not long ago. She told me about the shipwreck. She didn't know if Tristan had survived it."
Ronan flinched at the mention of her name. It threw his thoughts into disarray and for a moment he forgot what he was there for.
"I'm sorry, did you not know about that?" Anders asked through the silence.
"I knew about it. I… that's not what I'm here for." Ronan fought to compose himself and his thoughts. Why couldn't he stop thinking of Melisende? He was here for Anwen, for his blade. They were the only things that mattered now.
"So what are you here for? I have a room full of patients waiting for me, in case you haven't noticed." Anders looked a little impatient now.
"So," Ronan said, getting a grip on things, "a bunch of Templars walked into the inn…"
"Wait a minute," Anders interrupted. "Did Varric and Hawke put you up to this?"
"What?" Ronan asked, confused. "Varric? What are you talking about?"
"Never mind," Anders said. "It just sounded like the beginning of another one of his Templar jokes. Continue."
Ronan sent Anders a curious look before he opened his mouth again. "As I was saying, a bunch of Templars walked into the inn where a couple of friends and I were staying. One of these friends was an apostate. One of the Templars recognized her, arrested her, and now she is in the Gallows. I want her back and I want my blade which one of the bastards took from my hands, back."
Anders said nothing for a moment. He paced back and forth in that small corner of his clinic and Ronan watched him quietly. Was Anders always this… crazy? The look on his face was murderous. Had Ronan been right to come to him?
"You've come to the right place." Anders said, abruptly halting his pacing. Had the man just read his mind, or was it just a coincidence?
"Good." Ronan said.
"Mages deserve better than to be locked up, treated like slaves." Anders began to pace around again. "For all the chantry says, it should not be this way. Andraste did not preach for slavery. She ended that and preached for freedom, for all man. Are mages not included in that?"
Shem'lin tales? Ronan wasn't sure if Anders was asking a rhetorical question or not, so he just nodded his agreement, impatient to get to the details. But Anders didn't notice and kept pacing around, muttering to himself.
"The Circle goes against everything Andraste preached. Freedom is a natural right for every man, woman, and child born in Thedas. Who gives them the right to lock up mages? Magic is a gift of the Maker, it is sacrilege to treat it otherwise."
Ronan stood awkwardly by as Anders ranted. When would this tirade end?
"The chantry twists the words of Andraste. Magic is to serve man, never to rule over him. They use it as an excuse to lock us up. And the way some mages are treated in the Circle; beaten or raped, they are no better than slaves to Templars. The Rite of Tranquility is even worse. It's that or death for many mages."
Beatings? Rape? Ronan himself was worked up into a rage now. That couldn't happen to Anwen, could it? She was a docile woman; she wouldn't give the Templars reason to beat her, would she? But rape? She may have a scar on her face, but the rest of her was tempting enough for any man. And what of the Rite of Tranquility Anders spoke of?
"Anders," Ronan said stiffly. Anders stopped pacing and turned his attention to Ronan. "All these things you speak of, the beatings, the rape, can it happen? And what is this Rite?"
"I was in the Circle Tower of Ferelden for some time. Nothing like that ever happened to me, but I escaped seven times and was brought back seven times." Anders explained with a wistful expression which soon turned to a hard one. "Here in Kirkwall it is different. The Templars are tougher, they have more clout. There is no king to give mercy to apostates. There is only the chantry, and every apostate must be a blood mage, according to them. The Rite of Tranquility takes away a mages feelings, turns him into a person with no emotions, no desires, they might as well not be a person."
Ronan couldn't imagine such a thing happening. Was it even possible to become a person with no feelings, no emotions? "They wouldn't do this to my friend, would they?"
"I wouldn't hold my breath." Anders replied. "Tell me about your friend."
"Her name is Anwen. She is an elf." Ronan paused as he tried to think of what to say. "She can shapeshift, but she seemed reluctant to use any other kind of magic. She never told me why. Perhaps she couldn't control it as well."
"To shapeshift requires a lot of focus. Anwen must be strong. But they don't generally teach that stuff in the Circle. If her other magic is uncontrollable, I fear they might just consider the Rite of Tranquility for her."
"No," Ronan shook his head. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Anwen could control her magic. "I won't let them do that to her."
"Then there is no time to waste." Anders nodded. "Me and a group of mages rescue mages from the Gallows. It is difficult, but not altogether impossible."
"How do you do it?" Ronan asked. "How have you not been caught already?"
"By being very quiet. You must promise to keep everything we do and tell you a secret. The lives of many mages are at stake here."
"I am good at keeping secrets."
Anders stared at him with consideration.
"I promise." Ronan said in reassurance.
"The first thing we have to do is get word to your friend Anwen. There are some contacts within the Gallows, so that shouldn't be a problem. She must do the rest. She must go to the dungeons at the appointed time. That is where I will be waiting."
"And me."
"Fine, that is where we will be waiting. There is a secret passageway, used mostly by lyrium smugglers, from the Undercity to the dungeons of the Gallows. We've recently used it to help mages escape. Not many people know about it, not even the Templars, except for the ones with lyrium addled brains, but they can be dealt with."
"That easy?"
"Many things could go wrong. If we encounter Templars, for example, we must kill them all. We cannot compromise the secret passageway."
"I will savour that moment if it comes."
Anders smiled. "I like you."
"What about my blade? I intend to get it back. If I have to sneak into the Gallows to do it, then I will."
Anders shook his head. "No. It is too risky."
"It is important to me. I will go in alone, once Anwen is recovered."
"You would die for a blade?"
"It is not just any blade. It was given to me by my grandfather."
Anders sighed. "I suppose if you are careful and keep the passageway a secret, then you can run headlong into danger if you want to. I won't stop you. I owe your brother a lot. He did save me from another trip to the Circle Tower."
Ronan frowned and ignored the comment about his brother. "Anwen has more friends who would help."
"Are they trustworthy?"
"Yes." Ronan answered without a doubt, without a blink of the eye. The humans are trustworthy.
