Bailey sat on the stone bench in a secluded corner of the garden, contemplating a late blooming rose on a nearby bush. A pad of parchment rested on her knee and stick of charcoal was clutched in her fingers. She pulled her cloak a bit tighter around her, warding off the early morning chill. Finally, she put charcoal to paper and began making a few broad and loose strokes, outlining the general shape of the rose. The sketching of something so simple gave her mind time to think while her hands and fingers produced the artwork.
Another three months had passed; she had been in this world for nine months now. She shifted, trying to pull a bit more of her cloak between her and the cold stone she sat on. It was the middle of the year, and the start of the winter season. She chuckled, remembering her reaction to finding out that Thedas was located in a southern hemisphere, and the further south one went, the colder it got. Isabela and Varric had supplied her with some maps and she had exclaimed, "Well, no wonder the trees were too green!" Varric had cocked his head in question at her outburst, and she had to think fast to cover her story. "They, uh…are different from the ones we had around my village." Varric had slowly nodded and replied with, "Whatever you say, Blossom."
It had not been an unproductive time. Her foray into producing luxury items like scented soaps and bath oils had met with success in Hightown. She had made an exclusive arrangement with one of the shopkeepers and tried to create a new scent each month, according to what flowers and herbs were available. Apparently, the nobles found the idea intriguing and made it a game amongst themselves to be the first to get the new scent. The hand drawn labels had also garnered interest, and she had received a few commissions for artwork; small things, like triptychs of flowers and herbs. Her most ambitious piece to date had been a drawing of the Chantry itself. That drawing now resided in one of the homes in Hightown, gracing the walls of a nobleman's study.
Another three months… and she had all but given up on going home. It had become apparent to her that she was here for a reason; what it was exactly, she had no idea. But if this was where she had to call home for however long it took, then she accepted it and would make the best of it. Besides, she had made her own promise to herself concerning Anders, and she wasn't going to cut out on him.
She lifted the pad up so the edge rested on her knee. The charcoal began to color in the shadows of the petals, giving them shape and depth, one finger darting out occasionally to smooth the lines. She sometimes missed her drawing pencils, but living here had given her a new appreciation for the delicacy it took to work with charcoals. She spared a moment to glance upward as she heard a quiet noise at the other end of the garden. 'Ah, it's just Brian,' she thought. 'Probably here to start winterizing the plants.' Brian - that is, Brother Brian – was the head gardener at the Chantry. It wasn't unusual for her to see him because she was, after all, in the Chantry Garden.
Anders nearly had an apoplexy when he had found out that she had taken to wandering through the gardens. "Are you insane, Bailey? Do you know what could happen to you? To me? You would be arrested and killed for aiding an apostate! I would be sent to the Gallows and probably made Tranquil, if not outright beheaded! You have to stop going there. It's too dangerous."
"Oh, so hiding away is so much better? Anders, it's a technique I like to call 'don't make yourself so obvious.' Seriously, would someone who is aiding and abetting apostates really go flaunting themselves at the Chantry? No, they wouldn't. But someone who has nothing to hide wouldn't keep themselves from the place. Besides, I seem to recall a morning where you stood right in front of the Grand Cleric herself and you weren't slapped in irons."
They had argued for another 10 minutes, until Anders' eyes flashed bright blue and Justice spoke. "YOU WILL NOT DO IT ANYMORE AND THAT IS FINAL!"
Bailey had then leaned in, pointedly poked him in the middle of his chest, and quietly said, "Watch me."
Bailey smiled a bit remembering how Justice had sputtered, speechless at her defiance. He was sometimes too arrogant for his own good, really. And she wasn't willing to give up the one place that had granted her some sense of peace and quiet in this world. She enjoyed working in the clinic with Anders, but lately his absences were more frequent. She was considering asking him about letting her take on an apprentice. There were a few young girls that immediately came to mind. And an extra pair of hands when he wasn't around would be helpful, to say the least. It was becoming apparent that running it by herself was starting to wear on her. She didn't even have the supposed 'guard training' anymore. That had lasted about a month, just enough time for her to learn how to handle a bow, to a point. Anders had gotten her a target and she would set it up at one end of the clinic to practice in the evenings after dinner, although she couldn't tell if she was improving. Her concentration was all over the place lately. It didn't help matters that Anders seemed to have become such close friends with Hollie. They had their own little private jokes now, and she had seen the way Hollie was looking at him lately. 'Stupid woman, with her knives and big blue eyes,' Bailey thought, her charcoal suddenly making a harsh line across her paper.
She sighed heavily and rubbed her fingers across the charcoal to soften the effect. As she did so, a footstep landed on the path leading into this corner. She looked up to see Brian heading toward her, a smile on his face. She gave him a smile in return as he came to stand next to her bench. He cocked his head and contemplated her drawing for a moment. "Another commission, Serrah Bailey?"
"No, not this time. This one was simply to give my hands something to do while my mind wanders about on twisted paths."
He glanced toward the bush she was using at inspiration. "A beautiful specimen; a few more weeks and the roses will become dormant. But there will be the winter bloomers such as pansies. 'Tis unfortunate that you do not have any pastels to capture the colors." He gestured toward the spot on the bench next to her and said, "May I?"
She scooted over a bit to make room for him. "I do miss working with colors, but my charcoal work has improved dramatically."
Brian nodded and then turned piercing green eyes on her. He was dressed in what she knew was his working clothes; sturdy leather boots, heavy trousers and a long sleeved dark red tunic. Brian was in his late 40's, if she had to guess, and although he was a Brother of the Chantry, he hadn't let that fact destroy his physique. He was powerful through the shoulders and chest, no doubt from all the physical labor that he did on behalf of the Chantry. His hair was a dark auburn and a bit of gray had begun to creep in around his temples. Small wrinkles traced the outer corners of his eyes and forehead, but overall, he had a very kind face. He reminded her of one of her uncles, a farmer, back home. Both men had skin browned from working outside and a sort of calmness that came about from working with the earth. For her uncle, it was animals, fruits, and vegetables. For Brian, it was this garden of flowers, provided for people needing a quiet spot for contemplation and prayer, and food for the Chantry's kitchen.
Bailey shifted a little under his intense gaze. He lifted a hand in a placating gesture and said, "Now, child, no need to fidget. You said that your mind was wandering down twisted paths. I am offering to listen, should you need to speak. I may be a gardener, but I am also a fully pledged brother. Anything you say to me will be kept in strictest confidence."
She turned to look at him, her lips twisting with remorse. "I wish I could talk to you, Brother Brian. But the secrets I keep are not mine to give away, nor would I betray the trust of the ones who gave them to me."
"I don't ask for you to give me secrets. Surely there are other things that you can say that will lighten your burden."
She lowered the pad onto her knee and leaned forward, her chin resting on her closed fist. "I suppose there are. And the people around me, well…they wouldn't precisely understand."
She turned to look up at him and he simply sat there, quietly. He had shoved his hands into opposite sleeves, as if he were wearing his robes. She smiled a little at that and finally said, "I just… I feel as if I were brought here to Kirkwall for a reason. But that reason has not made itself known, and I feel like I'm just floundering. There is plenty to keep me busy during the day, of course, but at the end of each one, I find myself wondering if what I did that day was enough. Did I make any kind of a difference or make the world better?"
Brother Brian considered her words for only a moment before saying, "Anytime that you are able to give someone hope makes a difference and does make the world better. A smile or kind word given to a worried person at the right moment can have a tremendous effect. Even something as simple as giving someone a packet of tea to help them sleep at night makes a difference. You do good works in your clinic, Bailey. You and your…friend."
Bailey turned shocked eyes to him and he gave her a calm smile in return. She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. "Complete confidence, I promise. The Chantry is not completely blind to things that happen in the city. I will not betray you, just as you will not betray your friends. Trust, when broken, cannot be mended as easily as I might mend a fence. It is more fragile than the finest porcelain, and can be shattered just as easily."
She slumped a little and said, "How did you figure it out?"
He lifted one shoulder in a half apologetic shrug. "Solivitus."
She closed her eyes. Solivitus was an herbalist that sold his wares in the courtyard of the Gallows. She had found out about him through Anders, and had paid him a visit to examine his goods and to just talk shop with him. She had missed chatting with others that appreciated the hidden properties of plants. Brian continued speaking.
"He sometimes comes here to gather herbs for his potions. During a visit about 6 months ago, he told me of a lady who had brought him some rare ingredients. She had a mage with her, a tall blonde fellow, who took an interest in his wares and said he had a friend that was an herbalist. The next day, Soli got a visit from a woman seeking out some things for a clinic she ran. Said a friend of hers had told her he had them. She purchased some of the items he had made with those rare ingredients. You began coming here a few months ago, and I noticed your interest in the herbs, the same ones that Soli uses. I've seen you a few times around town in the company of a tall blonde man that carries what looks like a staff on his back. I began to put two and two together. Plus, I love mysteries. They keep my mind sharp."
He stood then, and brushed a hand down the front of his tunic. "Do not doubt yourself, child. You are here for a reason, and the Maker will reveal it to you in his own time. Until he does, keep doing as you are doing now. The world needs people that care and are willing to give of themselves freely. And it also needs color," he finished, reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled free a small wooden box. He passed it to her with a smile and turned to walk back to where he had left his tools.
Bailey gazed after him and then slid open the lid of the box. She was astounded to see a set of soft artist pastels, each stick carefully wrapped in paper and nestled into its own spot inside the box. She lifted out a stick of pale yellow and gently unwrapped it, laying the paper to the side and began to give her sketch color. As she did so, her heart lifted from the shadows and for the first time in a while, she felt her confidence slide back into place.
And hour later, she finished smudging the last bits of green into the background of her sketch and held it out at arm's length to examine it. No, it was done. Anything else would be overkill. She brought it close to her face and gently blew across the page, dislodging any loose bits of charcoal and pastel, then pulled the sheet free and gently rolled it into cylinder. She secured it with a thread pulled from her cloak and gathered her things to leave the garden.
As she headed toward the public gate, she saw that Brian was clearing a part of the garden she hadn't noticed before. It was a long area along one wall, narrow and bordered by tall hedges. She blinked a couple of times when she saw there were archery targets set up at the far end of the space. She headed into the enclosure and Brian looked up from pulling some vines away from the legs of the targets. He wiped the back of one hand across his forehead and said, "Ah, I take it contemplation time is over for the day?"
She nodded and held the rolled up parchment towards him. "I decided you should have this one. The first thing I've done with color since coming to Kirkwall."
He smiled and bowed his head once at her. "Then I shall cherish it. Jonathan!" he bellowed. A younger man, dressed much like Brian, came running into the area from somewhere in the garden. He panted just a bit and said, "Yes, Brother Brian?"
Brian gestured at the parchment and said, "Take that to my office. And be careful with it. I imagine that it will be a priceless work of art someday." The side of his mouth twitched into a half-smile.
Bailey handed the drawing over to the lad and watched him walk away, holding the parchment as if it were a fragile artifact. She turned back to Brian and lifted her hand towards the targets. "I've not seen these before. Have they been here this whole time?"
Brian grunted as he pulled at a particularly tenacious vine. "They belong to Brother Sebastian. He likes to keep his skills keen."
'Sebastian…why does that name sound familiar? I wonder if he means…' She turned to put her things down and reached down to help Brian pull the weed out of the ground. "Would that be the Sebastian that is also the Prince of Starkhaven?"
The vine finally came loose from the ground and Brian said, "The one and the same. Have you met Brother Sebastian?"
"I saw him once, but only in passing."
She took in the targets and wondered if he would mind her using them. She didn't realize she'd said anything aloud until Brian replied, "I don't see why he would. He's still away, in Starkhaven." He handed her a cloth to wipe her hands and asked, "Are you an archer as well, Serrah Bailey?"
Baily laughed and handed him his cloth. "I wouldn't go so far as to call myself that. I just picked up a bow for the first time about three months ago. I practice, but the area I have set up is not nearly this large, nor as well lit."
Brian nodded at her words and said, "Then bring your bow here. It's quiet in the mornings, as you know, and Sebastian is a good man. He won't mind your use of his targets. As far as I know, he will be remaining in Starkhaven through the winter."
She nodded in sudden decision. "You know, I think I will do that. Thank you, Brother Brian. For your kind words and for the pastels."
He simply bowed his head at her again and said, "Maker watch over you, Bailey."
When she got back to the clinic, Anders met her at the door, took her things and set them on the desk. When he did so, he leaned on the edge, his hands flat against the surface and took a deep breath. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. "Were you followed?"
Bailey exhaled heavily and said, for what felt like the millionth time, "No, Anders. No one followed me." She walked past him into the kitchen and grabbed a hunk of bread and some cheese to assuage her growling stomach. He followed her and crossed his arms, watching her as she ate.
"You do understand my caution, don't you?"
"Yes, Anders, I do. And I have told you repeatedly that I am safe there."
His lips tightened up into a grimace and he said, "They'd like you to think so. Lure you in, and then snag you. Hollie doesn't think…"
Bailey threw her hands up at that. "You know what? I don't care what Hollie might think, okay? She doesn't walk on water for me."
He gritted his teeth and lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I have no idea what that means, but she is just worried that you going there will bring unnecessary attention on me."
"Well, then, let me assure you. The one member of the Chantry that I interact with – which would be the gardener, by the way – already knows about you. He knows about the clinic. He's known for months, actually, but yet, we are still here, still walking about freely."
Anders' head snapped up at her words. "What? Someone knows who you are? Who I am? Bailey, you can't…"
"No! Don't you dare start telling me what I can and can't do again! I am a grown woman! I know the dangers, and I know how to avoid them. Damn it, do you really think I would risk bringing the Templars here to our home? I have given you my trust and faith for months; at least have the courtesy to return the favor."
He stared at her, taking in the set of her jaw and the glassy look to her eyes, revealing the tears she was barely holding back. He crossed the few feet between them and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. His voice came out as a low growl. "I'm sorry. I do have faith in you. But the danger to you…there is still so much about this world you don't know. So I am begging you, please. At the very least, be careful."
Bailey clutched him close, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. She sniffed a little and then pushed him away, gently. She searched his face and said, "I am being careful. You have to trust me." One hand lifted to touch his cheek for a brief moment. "But I'm not going to stop going. Especially now, not after what I found today."
His hand had wrapped around her wrist when she touched his cheek and he lowered it now. "What is that?"
Her eyes sparkled happily. "Archery targets. And Brother Brian – the gardener – said I could use them for practice in the mornings."
He took a step back and said, "What about the one I have for you here?"
"I'll still use it as well. It's just that I know that some nights, you aren't exactly in the mood to listen to the constant twang of a bowstring."
He considered that for a moment, his arms folded across his chest again and finally nodded. "Okay. And actually, I would feel better knowing you have your bow with you when you go."
She smiled and reached out to balance herself on his arm as she rose on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you."
He smiled at the gleam in her eye. "You owe me a strong drink for this. I think I'll need it every time you leave here to go to those blasted gardens."
"I'll have Bela send over some Antivan Brandy. Will that be strong enough?"
"Andraste's ass! That stuff will take the coating off my teeth. How can you stand to drink it?"
"I admit, it is an acquired taste…but putting a bit of honey in it helps."
"I"ll have to remember that the next time you convince us to play Chase the Wench. Maybe then I won't wake up with a raging hangover again."
"Serves you right for laughing at me that first time."
"Alright. You win. Come on. Let's heal some sick people, shall we?"
Author's Note: Chase the Wench is a drinking game involving dice and rules that become harder to remember the longer you play and the more you've drank. It's also known as Catch the Pig. I like my name for it better.
